It’s funny how life moves on slowly, quietly, without asking if you’re ready. It’s been almost two years now since I lost my father. And for a while, I lost myself too.

Grief has a way of changing everything. It creeps in unexpectedly in the middle of conversations, in moments of joy, in the silence of everyday life. There was a time when I felt completely unanchored like I was drifting through days I barely recognized. I was holding it together on the outside but crumbling inside. Depression wasn’t a loud storm, it was a fog which was thick and constant. I couldn’t see where I was going, and honestly, I didn’t care.

But something changed. Slowly. Quietly.

Time, though it didn’t heal everything, created space for me to feel again. And in that space, I found little moments of light. A smile that didn’t feel forced. A memory of him that brought peace instead of pain. A deeper understanding of who I am and what he still means to me.

Now, I’m learning to be present. To sit with my emotions without fearing them. I’m starting to make peace with the fact that I may never stop missing him and that’s okay. I carry him with me in the way I move through the world, in the strength I show on hard days, in the quiet resilience I didn’t know I had.

Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. It means living fully, even when part of your heart lives in the past. It means honoring their memory by choosing to smile again.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what healing really is i.e. the gentle return to yourself after you’ve been away for a while.

For Papa — you’re in everything I do <3.