Grieving – A Journey

It’s been four months since my mother passed away, and ten years since my father left us. As an only child, born late—often called a "miracle baby"—I was showered with love, care, and protection. My parents were overprotective, which left me a shy, dependent child with low self-esteem, often eager to please others. But over time, I’ve shed these labels. I now focus on becoming a better version of myself every day.

When I share my story, people often respond with shock, pity, or the comment, “You’re so strong.” But strength is not a choice; it’s a necessity. We all have it, in one way or another. The past five years have been particularly tough. Along with my own health challenges, I cared for my mother through her dialysis and managed hospital visits while continuing my education and work. It was difficult, but I made a conscious decision to prioritize her. I wanted to be present with her, to cherish every moment. And I did.

Nevertheless, I didn’t want to pause my education or career. I had dreams of pursuing a full-time master’s program, but the circumstances didn’t allow it. So, I took another route. I enrolled in distance courses—two master’s degrees from IGNOU in Education and Psychology, alongside a Postgraduate Diploma in Child Rights Law from NLSIU. I chose these paths not because I had to, but because I didn’t want to let my situation become an excuse to fall behind in pursuing my passions - Child Rights, Mental Health, Peacebuilding & Education.

However, this came with a significant trade-off. My physical and mental health suffered. Caregiving and compassion fatigue are real, and I felt them deeply. And now, in the past four months, I’ve been navigating the profound grief of losing my mother. The home that was once filled with her presence now feels hollow. The silence is overwhelming. Yet, I am fortunate to have the support of family, friends, and colleagues. But, truthfully, unless someone has experienced this loss, it’s hard for them to truly understand. And that’s okay. Empathy is enough.

People often tell me to “move on.” But you don’t move on from something like this. Parents are a part of you, and when they’re gone, a piece of you goes with them. It’s like losing a physical or mental faculty—you're still whole, but changed. Grief, failure, disappointment—all these emotions are part of a journey. They open doors to parts of yourself you never knew existed, parts that remind you of your own strength and the resilience to keep going.

Grief, I’ve learned, is not something you get over. It’s a wave that ebbs and flows, triggered by a memory, a picture, a moment. It’s unpredictable, but like the tides, it becomes a rhythm. Over time, I’ve gotten better. I needed a break to rest, reflect, reconnect, and refocus. And that’s okay. We cannot pour from an empty cup.

If you’re reading this, thank you. Please remember: you matter. Your emotions, experiences, and feelings matter. Don’t invalidate them just because they don’t match others' expectations. And if you know someone who’s grieving, just reach out. Be present. Live each moment with the people you love fully, because time is precious.