The morning I lost my son, time broke into two pieces. Before and after.
Nothing looked the same again. Not even the light. Since then, it has felt like living in a constant darkness. In those early days, I searched for anything that could explain how to keep breathing through a pain that felt unlivable.
There is a deep loneliness that comes with this kind of loss. The loneliness of realizing how few truly understand a mother’s grief. Even the people I had always looked up to could not help. It wasn’t their fault. No one can guide you through something they have never experienced.
So I began to withdraw inward, knowing that even those with the best intentions often say the wrong things. I turned to grief books and online resources, searching for something that could help me navigate the darkness. But I found very little that truly spoke to what I was feeling.
My medical background and researcher’s mind added another layer to the difficulty of my grief. The conflict between my heart and my analytical mind was exhausting. I kept trying to understand what had happened, while my heart was simply breaking.
Soon into my journey, I realized that I would have to build the space I could not find.
At first, I did not set out to create a project. I set out to survive.
But somewhere between the tears and the prayers, I understood that my love for Shahryar could still move in this world. Through service. Through words. Through helping another mother learn how to breathe again.
I do not have all the answers. But I have the road beneath my feet and the faint flicker of light that appears when everything feels too dark.
I cannot promise you healing. But I can promise to share what I have. Moments of truth. Small comforts. Gentle reminders that love does not end where life does.
Welcome to Healing Mothers.
Let’s walk this path together.
With love,
Umm-e-Shahryar
Mother of Shahryar