Grief is exhausting. It takes up so much space, and yet, somehow, life keeps demanding more from me. I can’t pause it. I can’t set it down. I have to keep moving, even when everything in me just wants to stop.
I think that’s been the hardest part, learning how to make space for grief while still showing up for my. life. I don’t get to press pause. I still have responsibilities, still have my kids, still have to keep everything running. But I also know I can’t keep pushing it down and pretending it’s not there.
Facing Myself
Lately, I’ve been breaking down more. Not because I wasn’t allowing myself to cry before, but because now, I’m fully letting myself feel it. Before, I would turn away from my reflection if I started crying. I couldn’t bear to look at myself like that. It broke my own heart to see myself in so much pain. But today was different. Today, I look in the mirror, tears and all, and didn’t turn away. I told myself we’re going to be okay. That we’re going to keep going, keep pushing, keep doing the things we need to do. And that felt like a shift.
Iddah Ending and the Weight of Closure
Maybe part of my overwhelm is knowing that my iddah period is ending. Four months and ten days of mourning are almost over. And while nothing changes overnight, it still feels like a closing chapter. Another reminder that life keeps moving forward, even when I don’t feel ready.
My relationship with God has been my anchor. Fuad and I had similar views on life and death, we knew this life wasn’t eternal. We both knew we would return to God. But that doesn’t make the loss any easier. I still didn’t want it to be him, so soon.
Trying to Find Balance
I have been allowing myself more intentional rest. Slowing down, even if just a little. Before, I was constantly moving, constantly doing, unconsciously trying to outrun my grief.But I can’t outrun it. I can only sit with it. Feel it. Make space for it.
That doesn’t mean I stop. I can’t. There are still things I need to do, dreams I need to chase, a life I need to build. And that scares me, because Fuad was my biggest cheerleader. He believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.
I know I have to be that for myself now.
The Reality of It All
There’s a memory that keeps replaying in my mind. Fuad and I were in the hospital, walking laps together. We stopped at a window and just watched the cars passing on the highway. In that moment, we both realized the same thing … life doesn’t stop.
We talked about it. A full conversation, not just a passing thought. We stood there, watching the world outside move as if nothing had changed, and we acknowledged it together. Just because we were in the hospital, in that moment, dealing with something that felt so big, didn’t mean the world around us slowed down. Life kept going. It always does.
We knew that. And now, I’m living it. Life didn’t stop when we got the diagnosis. It didn’t stop when he took his last breath. And it isn’t stopping now.
I don’t get to press pause on grief, but I also don’t get to press pause on living.
Finding Myself in This New Reality
People tell me I’m strong, but I don’t always feel that way. I don’t think I’m weak either. I just feel like someone who is trying. Trying to make sense of this, trying to keep going, trying to figure out who I am now.
Because if I’m being honest, I don’t fully know myself anymore. The version of me that existed before all of this feels distance, like someone I used to know but can’t quite reach. And I want to get to know myself again. I want to figure out what brings me joy, what makes me feel alive, what gives me peace.
I do see the progress. I know I’m moving forward. But there are moments, triggers that stop me in my tracks … reminding me just how heavy this all is. And it makes me wonder if I’m really healing or if I’m just moving through the motions.
I know I need to give myself grace. I hear it often. I tell myself that often. But knowing and doing are two different things. Learning how to be kind to myself, to not expect so much, to not force myself into some version of strength that doesn’t feel real. That’s what I’m working on.
I can’t change what happened. I can’t bring Fuad back. But I can keep showing up for myself and maybe, along the way, I’ll figure out who I’m becoming.
With Love,
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