GROWING WITHOUT HER.🌼✨

PART 1 : THE DAY MY WORLD CHANGED.

I still remember that day, even though I wish I could forget it sometimes.

I was sixteen too young to understand what forever really meant, but old enough to feel the kind of pain that leaves a mark.

Everything felt normal at first just another morning, another moment I didn’t know would become the before.

Mummy had been sick for a long while. She was getting better gradually, and we were all so happy that she’d soon return to her shop where she sold provisions. At least she’d get to leave the house again, breathe fresh air, and gist with her customers.

But suddenly, the sickness came back even worse than before.

Sometimes I cried myself to sleep, watching her in so much pain.

It wasn’t an easy journey.

It was on a Friday morning.

I didn’t want to go to school that day, but she insisted I should because I had already missed classes for weeks.

Honestly, I preferred staying home helping her wash up, keeping her company, tending to her needs than sitting in school worrying about her.

But she told me to go, that she’d be fine.

I left for school with doubt in my heart.

Then something strange happened. I got into a fight.

It was so unlike me I never had quarrels in school, always stayed on my own. But that day, everything felt off. I didn’t know that something terrible was happening at home.

After the incident, I rushed back home to freshen up and do my usual chores. When I entered the house, I saw her sitting on the sofa, sleeping.

I tried to wake her up.

She didn’t respond.

Her body was cold,so cold.

I couldn’t even scream. I just froze, then quietly went to call our neighbours.

My dad was at work.

Mummy had also forced him to go, just like she made me.

It was as if she knew she was leaving that day.

I couldn’t call him to break the news,I didn’t even know how.

And just like that, life split into two: before she was gone and after she left.

The house felt quieter, emptier like even the walls missed her voice.

People said things like “Be strong” and “It’ll be okay,” but I didn’t even know what being strong meant anymore.

It’s strange how one person can be the heart of everything the warmth, the laughter, the smell of home and when they’re gone, everything changes.

That was the day my world shifted, and nothing ever looked the same again.

PART 2 : EMPTY SPACES AND QUIET NIGHTS.

The house felt quieter than ever.

The days after felt like walking through a dream I couldn’t wake up from.

Every corner of the house held memories not just quiet, but heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting for her voice to fill it again.

The chair she loved to sit on.

The scent of her perfume that still lingered in her room.

The echo of her laughter in the kitchen.

The way she called my name, teased me, made even the simplest moments feel warm.

And at night, when everything went still, the emptiness felt the loudest.

People came and went, saying the same words over and over again “Be strong,” “She’s in a better place.”

But what did better mean when it didn’t include her?

Sometimes, I whisper a quiet “I miss you,” hoping somehow she can hear me.

Those first days felt endless each one carrying the same ache, the same silence, the same emptiness.

But through it all, Daddy tried.

He didn’t say much, but his silence carried strength.

We were both learning how to live with the space she left behind.

PART 3 : MY DAD, MY HERO.

If there’s one person who held everything together, it was my dad.

He didn’t talk much about the pain, but I could see it in his eyes the way he tried to smile even when his heart was breaking too.

He became both parents in one: the strict and the soft, the laughter and the lesson.

He made sure we never felt alone.

During those tough days, he did everything he could to make sure we were okay.

He cooked, cleaned, helped with homework, and still found ways to make us laugh when the house felt too quiet.

Even when things were hard, he never let it show.

We never went hungry, never lacked what we needed.

He worked so hard, sometimes late into the night, just to make sure we had a roof over our heads and smiles on our faces.

When we fell sick, he was right there,the one giving us medicine, checking our temperature, praying silently under his breath.

He tried his best to fill every gap, to make sure we didn’t feel the emptiness too deeply.

And even though nothing could replace Mom he somehow made home feel safe.He carried a strength I can’t explain, the kind that made me believe we’d be fine somehow.

He worked harder, prayed harder, and loved deeper.

Sometimes I’d catch him staring into space, lost in thought, probably thinking about her.

And I’d wish I could take away some of his pain, the same way he tried to ease mine.

Through it all, he became my hero not because he was perfect, but because he stayed.

PART 4 : LEARNING TO BREATHE AGAIN, GROWING THROUGH THE PAIN.

Time passed, slowly.

And somewhere between the tears and the silence, I started to find little moments of light again.

The laughter with friends that didn’t hurt as much, the songs that reminded me of her but made me smile instead of cry.

I realized healing isn’t about forgetting; it’s about remembering without breaking every time.

There are days I still miss her deeply, but I’ve learned to live with it to breathe through it.

Because even though she’s gone, a part of her still lives in me.

Now, when I look back, I see how far I’ve come.

Losing her was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced, but it taught me how strong I could be.

It taught me that love doesn’t end, it grows in memories, in lessons, in the quiet strength she left behind.

I’m still growing, still learning, still finding pieces of her in who I’m becoming.

And maybe that’s what life really is growing without the ones we’ve lost, but never without their love.