The Witty Wordsmith

Today is day 52. The first thirty days were strange. My mind still worked like a machine, remembering every theory about grief, every piece of wisdom people said in good faith. I knew the stages, the logic, the acceptance, the surrender. I knew everything I was supposed to feel, except… I didn’t feel it. My heart was late. It walked slower th…

Today is day 52. The first thirty days were strange. My mind still worked like a machine, remembering every theory about grief, every piece of wisdom people said in good faith. I knew the stages, t…

This article is part of the series: Advice from a Sister from Another Mother A collection of honest reflections and practical lessons from a 30-something to her 20-something sisters—about love, self-…

I was in the midst of a thick fog of losing. That much was obvious. The conversation with my husband last night somehow landed softly at the bottom of my heart, and maybe that was exactly what I need…

I thought I was strong. I thought grief would knock me down for a while, let me gasp, then loosen up. I thought being her daughter for thirty-two years was savings I could draw on. When she died, the…

How do you grieve someone who’s still alive? The question sounds absurd, maybe even cruel. Like betrayal, like you’ve already dug a pit for burial while the body is still warm. And yet, I did it. No…

Duniaku porak poranda sejak poros kehidupanku berpulang. Aku selalu tahu bahwa kehilangan adalah bagian dari hidup, bahwa setiap manusia hanyalah titipan, bahwa pada akhirnya semua yang kita cintai a…

It’s been twenty-one days since Mama return to the mercy of Allah SWT. I keep counting. I don’t know why, maybe because numbers stay still, while everything else keeps slipping. Twenty-one feels both…

It’s been sixteen days since my mother passed. Sixteen days. I keep counting, as if the number itself would help me grasp what forever actually means. But my body knows better than my brain does. My…