I was already in the air.
By the time I landed, the world I knew had shifted. It felt like my life had split into two timelines—before that moment, and everything that came after.
My mom passed away on May 30.
And I was on my way to Ghana.
There's something surreal about receiving life-changing news while traveling. The world around you keeps moving. Airports stay loud. People rush to their gates. Planes keep taking off.
But inside, everything slows down.
The realization didn't hit all at once. It came in waves—especially once the call from my sister fully sunk in. The words replayed in my mind over and over, trying to make sense of something that didn't feel real yet.
When I stepped off that flight, I wasn't the same person who had boarded the connecting flight earlier that day.
Life Doesn't Always Stop for Grief
People often imagine grief as something that comes with pause.
Time off work. Quiet days at home. Space to process what just happened.
But sometimes life doesn't allow that kind of pause.
Classes still have deadlines. Travel plans are already in motion. Family responsibilities don't disappear.
Instead of stopping, life keeps going—and you have to find a way to move with it.
That's what grief looked like for me.
Living Between Two Realities
One part of me was grieving one of the most important people in my life.
Another part of me was still expected to show up—to study, attend programs, talk to people, and keep moving forward.
Those two realities existed at the same time.
Some moments I felt present, even hopeful about the experience I was having abroad.
Other moments the weight of loss would suddenly return, like a wave I couldn't predict.
I started realizing that grief doesn't replace your life.
It runs alongside it.
Trying to Function While Your Mind Is Somewhere Else
Grief changes how your mind works.
Your focus becomes unpredictable.
You might sit in a lecture or stare at a screen and realize you haven't processed a single thing for the last ten minutes.
Your brain drifts back to memories. Conversations. Things you wish you could say one more time.
At the same time, you're trying to remind yourself: I still have responsibilities.
That tension between grief and responsibility becomes exhausting.
The Pressure to Stay Strong
Another reality people don't always talk about is the pressure to stay strong for others.
When a family loses someone, everyone grieves differently. Sometimes you feel like you have to hold yourself together so you can support the people around you.
You try to keep going because other people depend on you.
But carrying that responsibility while you're grieving can feel incredibly heavy.
Small Moments of Strength
Even in difficult periods, small moments start to remind you that you're still moving forward.
Finishing a class assignment. Helping a family member through a hard day. Finding brief moments of peace while traveling.
These moments don't erase grief.
But they show that life continues alongside it.
Over time, you begin to understand that grief isn't something you get over.
It's something you learn to carry.
Carrying Grief While Life Moves Forward
Grief doesn't arrive at a convenient moment. It doesn't wait for your schedule to clear or for the world to slow down. Sometimes it meets you in the middle of motion—between flights, between semesters, between responsibilities that still need to be carried.
Losing my mom changed how I see time, ambition, and the path I'm building for myself. There are days when the weight of that loss feels overwhelming, and other days when I feel the quiet strength of everything she taught me.
What I've learned is that grief and progress can exist at the same time.
You can mourn someone deeply and still keep moving forward. You can carry memories, love, and loss with you while continuing to build a life.
In many ways, that's what I'm still learning to do—taking each step forward not because the pain disappears, but because the people we love deserve to be remembered in the lives we continue to build.
As a Chinese idiom says:
山重水复疑无路,柳暗花明又一村
Shān chóng shuǐ fù yí wú lù, liǔ àn huā míng yòu yī cūn
Just when the road seems to disappear among mountains and rivers, suddenly another village appears ahead.
