I’m supposed to make this a happy diary entry something light, something cheerful. But today, that feels impossible. I lost my mother this week. Just writing that doesn’t even seem real yet. It’s like I’m floating in a haze, and every breath feels weighed down by emotions that don’t quite know where to go.

It’s funny how life doesn’t give you a break, even when you feel broken. I still had to go to work because I played an important role; nobody else could fill my position. I have to keep things moving because so many people are depending on me, and maybe, in a twisted way, keeping busy is a bit of a comfort.

But nobody can fill my mother’s position. No one else will ever have her voice, her warmth, her wisdom. Breaking the news to my siblings was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Seeing their faces, the shock, the disbelief, knowing I was the one who had to bring them this pain, was worse than any responsibility I’ve ever shouldered at work.

And as if that wasn’t enough, we’re in a difficult spot financially. It’s come down to making decisions I never thought I’d have to make letting go of stuff we can’t afford to keep, even though they’re the best at what they do. It feels like everything is slipping through my fingers, and I’m just trying to hold on, trying to stay steady for everyone else.

I know that life goes on, and that time will somehow help me heal. But right now, it feels like I’m walking through quicksand. Each step is an effort, each smile is forced, and each day feels both too long and too short. But I have to keep going for my siblings, for myself, and to honor her.

I think she’d want me to be strong, even though the world feels a little darker without her here. Maybe one day I’ll look back and see that even in the hardest days, I kept moving forward. Maybe that’s enough for now.