It’s a rainy, gloomy afternoon, and my heart feels heavy. Grief tends to settle in on days like this, like a storm that never fully passes.
Today, a memory popped up on my phone—a video from two years ago. I was pregnant with my daughter then, blissfully unaware of the terror that lay ahead. I wish I could go back to that moment, to feel her presence in the physical world just one more time.
But as always, reality pulls me back. The mundane chores, the bills that need paying, the relentless march of everyday life without her here. Everything feels different because she’s not here, and it’s almost impossible to reconcile this life with the one I had envisioned for us.
Recently, an acquaintance said to me, “It’s good to see you happy,” after not seeing me for a year. I forced a smile, but inside, I felt a pang of sadness. She doesn’t understand the mask I wear to be socially accepted—the way I hide my pain because it’s easier for everyone else to deal with. The truth is, I am not happy, and I don’t know when I will be. How could I be, when this life feels like a shadow of what it was supposed to be?
I feel like I’m living in two different realities at once—one where I’m expected to move forward and carry on, and another where I’m still trying to adjust to the unbearable loss. I am constantly torn between the world’s expectations and my own need to grieve.
For those of you who have experienced a similar loss, I know you understand this feeling. The world expects us to ‘move on,’ but grief doesn’t follow that timeline. It’s a part of us now, woven into our existence. We live with it, carry it, and somehow find ways to keep going, because we have no other choice.
Yet, I still find myself wondering what life would be like if she were here. I haven’t found a way to be at peace with the life I am living without her. It’s a constant battle to find acceptance, to reconcile the past with the present, and to figure out how to live in this new reality.
But perhaps that’s the journey of learning to live with the duality of grief and life. It’s a path that no one should have to walk alone, and I hope that by sharing my experience, others will feel less alone in theirs.
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