She would sit in her son's room, surrounded by his things, and cry until her tears ran dry. She would go through old photos and mementoes, reliving every moment she had with him. She would talk to him, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.
But the grief was always there, a constant ache in her heart. She didn't know how to put it into words or explain the depth of her sorrow.
Then one day, she was talking to a friend who had also lost a child. The friend listened quietly as Sarah tried to tell her friend how she felt, but she kept stumbling over her words and wiping away tears.
Finally, the friend spoke. "It's okay, Sarah," she said. "Grief is universal. It doesn't play favourites. It's okay to feel like you're sometimes drowning."
Those words resonated with Sarah. She realized that she wasn't alone in her grief, that others had been where she was and had found a way to keep going. It didn't make the pain disappear, but it gave her a sense of comfort and connection.
Over time, Sarah began to find small moments of joy amid the grief. She would remember her son's laugh, his smile, and his hugs. She would think about their shared times, their trips, and the simple moments of love and connection.
She realized motherhood was both a joy and a challenge, a constant balancing act of love and responsibility. She had done her best to raise her son, to guide him through life, and to be there for him in good times and bad. And even though he was gone, she still loved him with all her heart.
Sarah knew that the grief would always be with her, that she would always miss her son. But she also knew that she had the strength to keep going, to find a way to honour his memory and to live a life filled with love and hope.
And so she did, one day at a time, with tears and laughter, with memories and new experiences, with the knowledge that love endures even in the face of loss.