Assalamualaikum wbt.
Hi!
Yesterday, I mentioned that I’ve slowly started to forget things, especially since 2015—actually, late 2015, to be specific. As I write this, I realize that I don't remember most of the details. I have core memories of certain events, but the finer moments seem to have faded. And honestly, it's not just about 2015—there's so much more that I struggle to recall.
What happened in late 2015?
I lost my mom.
At that time, I was in the final stretch of completing my thesis, with only two months left to finish my Bachelor's Degree. I remember being so occupied with collecting data and preparing to submit my technical summary (I think). Then I got a call from my sister, telling me that my mom had been admitted to the hospital with a fever.
But it wasn’t just a regular fever.
I immediately contacted my supervisor to explain that I might not make it back in time to submit my work.
Long story short, I stayed at the hospital for about a week to take care of my mom. At first, she seemed to get better, but then, suddenly, her organs began to fail.
I remember when my dad passed away in 2010. He died of a heart attack in the ER, and I wasn’t there. No one was. That regret stayed with me for years, and since then, I always prayed for a chance to be by my mom’s side if anything ever happened to her. I thought that being there would somehow ease the sadness.
But it didn’t.
Watching the person who meant the whole world to me slowly slip away was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.
I still remember the moment my sister told my mom that it was okay to let go, that they would take care of me since I’m the youngest and still under her responsibility. I told my mom the same—I said that if she couldn’t fight anymore, she could go, and I’d be okay.
It was the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
I wasn’t okay. I didn’t even realize it at first. I thought grief was just a process you go through and eventually everything goes back to normal. But it doesn’t.
I went back to university and tried to carry on as if nothing had happened. But I got sick for a week. My supervisor noticed and told me something I’ll never forget: "The one who is gone will never return. But the ones left behind have to live."
I knew that. But knowing doesn’t make it easier.
That was the first time I understood how denying your emotions can take a toll on your physical health. I think I was just scared—scared of being alone. After finishing my studies, I had no one to go home to. My siblings had their own lives to focus on.
I miss my mom and dad. Even now, if someone asks me about them, I can’t help but cry. There are no words to describe the heaviness of missing someone who’s no longer here. It’s why I rarely talk about them.
I guess this is where my heartbreak truly began—leading to many more challenges that I’ll share with you one by one, post by post.
See ya!
