I worked 25 years for one dream: sharing a better life with my parents. When my dad died, that ended, and I began from zero, rebuilding my life and myself as I grieved.
I worked 25 years to be together and enjoy life with my parents, but this dream was taken away so quickly during the pandemic that I had no time to process it.
I was born in a country that deteriorated as I grew older. Because of that, my childhood memories are warmer than those of my adulthood, when we struggled daily for basic necessities, lived with constant insecurity, and worried about food. I was forced to grow up faster than I should have, burdened with worries no one should carry so young. And yet, in every memory I hold, one thing remains unchanged: the love of my close-knit family: my mum, my dad, and me. Above all, I remember how important it was for my dad always to be present, and it is because of him that I now have the purest understanding of what true love looks like.
At 18 I packed my bags and left, pushed by my dad who wanted me to have a better future, supported by my mother who was scared but knew staying in such a country was worse and fuelled by my desire to have a better life and to get my parents out of that, I didn’t want my dad to have to miss eating rice or have my mum lose sleep over the worry of not finding her thyroid medicine for next month. That day at the airport was the first and last time I saw my dad cry as I embarked for the unknown, we would message every day, he would support me and encourage me to continue all the time, I would call my parents as I walked to work in the morning and dad would always apologise for not being able to help me more and I’d say he had helped me enough already. Then he would tell me to always look for happiness and that, if I were happy, he would be happy too.
I worked relentlessly, and eventually, I made it. I became a resident, found a good job, saved enough money, and finally created a plan to bring them to me. I wanted to give back all the love they had poured into me and create new memories in a safer place. I bought their tickets and applied for their visas. They were coming in June 2020.
But before then, the world stopped.
The pandemic arrived, and with it, all my plans collapsed. We postponed flights again and again, believing things would eventually return to normal. I held on to the idea that everything I had worked for would still become reality. But life does not always follow our plans. Sometimes, even when you do everything right, you are still given unbearable lessons to carry.
Dad contracted COVID and spent 40 days trying to get better, in and out of hospitals. I couldn’t travel because of multiple restrictions, and the whole world was a mess; I was one of millions of people with a loved one in the ICU waiting for a miracle. My miracle never came; I said my last words before he was intubated through a voice message my mum played over the phone as he held on to hope.
I wish I could tell you what happened or how I felt after he died, but I don’t remember anything. My body’s trauma response was to block everything to spare me from the pain all of this was causing me. The day he died, the old me died as well, and I felt completely lost trying to understand what doesn’t really have an explanation. I have learned that we can grow from the pain that trauma leaves us, that reinventing ourselves is possible, and that even though grief never leaves us, it can coexist with success, peace, and happiness.
I have spent only 4 years of the rest of my life growing and learning, becoming this new me, connecting with people who have experienced such losses, and speaking about what people don’t like to talk about. When we share our stories, we help others understand they are not alone, and you are not alone. I am now doing what my father wanted the most for me: being happy.
I hope, between the dark days and tears, you find your new self and learn that smiling is part of the process, too.
I practiced resilience by allowing myself to change and accepting all my feelings without judgment.
Between the dark days, I hope you find your new self and learn that smiling is part of the process, too.
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