Greetings, Hive Family! I trust all is well on your end as you read my blog.
There are days when I look in the mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back at me. Her eyes are tired, her smile faint, and her spirit, once so full of life, feels like a distant memory. I chose the title "MISS YOU" not for someone else, but for myself. I miss the version of me who used to laugh freely, who found joy in the little things, who dreamed big and chased those dreams with fire in her heart.
But everything changed last July. My father, my hero, my anchor, passed away. And with him, a part of me went silent.
Since 2007, I’ve carried the role of being the eldest daughter and the sole breadwinner of our family. It wasn’t always easy, but I wore that responsibility with pride. I worked hard, not just for myself, but for my parents and siblings, and eventually for my nieces and nephews at times. I dreamed of giving them a better life. And slowly, I began to see those dreams take shape: a mini store for them, consistent financial support, and the joy of seeing their smiles when I came home with good news.
But when my father left us, it felt like the ground beneath me crumbled. Suddenly, all the things I used to love doing felt meaningless. I lost my rhythm. Even at work, I find myself drifting, unable to focus. I go through the motions, but my heart feels heavy.
Grief in Silence 😭
During the wake and burial, I didn’t cry. I held everything in, thinking maybe strength meant staying composed. But grief has a way of finding its way out. A few days after the burial, the tears came, uninvited, unstoppable. Every memory of him brings both warmth and pain. I remember his laughter, his quiet strength, his pride in me. And I ache for just one more moment with him.
Searching for the Happy Me ❣️
I often ask myself: How do I bring her back? The version of me who used to be so full of life; I know I still have dreams to fulfill, not just for my family, but for myself. But right now, I’m learning to be patient with my grief, to sit with it, to honor it; because maybe healing doesn’t mean going back to who I was, but becoming someone new, someone softer, wiser, and still capable of joy.
To anyone reading this who’s also grieving, who’s also trying to find their way back, I see you, and I’m walking this path with you.
Thank you for taking the time to read my reflection. Writing this was not easy, but it’s a step toward healing. If you’ve ever felt lost, or if you’re missing a part of yourself too, I hope this post reminds you that you’re not alone. Let’s keep holding on, even when it’s hard.
With love, —A daughter still learning how to smile again
NOTE: The photo I shared here is mine, originally captured using my mobile phone. I just enhanced it using the user-friendly CollageArt.