Grief is complicated. It is not just tears. It is a mountain you are forced to carry, physically, mentally, spiritually, every single day. At first, it feels immovable, crushing. Over time, you may grow stronger, but the mountain does not disappear. You simply learn how to carry it.
I have always been a productive person. My days were structured, scheduled, and purposeful. I thrive in organization and movement. After losing Shahryar, a part of me desperately wanted to return to that rhythm, to reclaim routine as if normalcy could restore what was lost. It took me some time to accept that I needed to slow down. I resisted it. I resented it. But my body and mind demanded it.
I would walk into the kitchen for something and forget why I was there. Small lapses irritated me at first. Completing even the simplest task felt monumental. I was not sleepy. I was depleted. It was a bone deep exhaustion, as though I were dragging that mountain behind me with every step.
My mind became a relentless spiral of questions. No distraction, no activity, no conversation could silence the replay.
Why?
Why me?
Why my family?
How could something so devastating happen to us? Does Allah not care?
I was angry. I knew people whose lives seemed untouched by suffering, people whose actions were far worse than anything I had ever done. Yet here I was, shattered. I questioned my faith, my choices, my understanding of everything.
I have always been grounded in faith. I am not perfect in practice, but my roots are deep, alhamdulillah. This loss shook those roots. I am a person of both science and belief. I research. I analyze. I observe. I do not like unresolved questions. So my instinct was to search for answers. For me, survival meant understanding.
My body and brain were exhausted, but my spirit was restless. It needed clarity. With a heavy, isolated heart, I began reading. Listening. Studying grief. Searching within my faith. Searching within myself.
If you are experiencing this mental fog, this spiritual unrest, this physical depletion, you are not alone.
My only advice is this: keep moving forward with intention. Even when nothing makes sense. Even when relief feels impossible. Even when answers are incomplete.
Keep going.
You may not feel stronger yet. But you are carrying more than you realize.
With love,
Umm-e-Shahryar
Mother of Shahryar