When I Said Goodbye to My Mom

Assalamualaikum wbt.

Hi!

Yesterday, I mentioned that I’ve slowly started to forget things—especially since 2015. Or more precisely, late 2015. 

As I write this, I realize I don’t remember many details anymore. I still have core memories of certain moments, but the smaller ones 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 before finishing my Bachelor’s Degree. I remember being so busy 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 normal 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 in the hospital for about a week to take care of my mom. At first, she seemed to be getting better. 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. Since then, I’d 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 make it easier.

But it didn’t.

Watching the person who meant the 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 was the youngest and still under her care. I told my mom the same thing—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 phase you go through and that eventually, life 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 fell 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 affect your body. 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 chapters that I’ll share with you, one by one, post by post.

See ya!