The process was long. For Asmau, grief didn’t come in one day. It came in waves. In empty rooms. In the quiet where her child’s voice used to be.
Losing her child broke something in her. There were days when strength felt impossible.
But Asmaul had something she leaned on when her own legs gave out.
“With the will of God, I came through,” she says now, her voice steady. “I believe my child is in the right place. My God will take care of him,” she sounded with faith.
That belief didn’t erase the pain. It carried her through it.
On the days she couldn’t get out of bed, she prayed. When the house felt too silent, she also prayed. And slowly, piece by piece, she found a way to live with the loss instead of being buried by it.
She still gets up for the people who need her. She still cooks, prays and hopes. But now there’s also a space in her heart that belongs to her child. A space filled with memory, love and faith.
“I don’t say I’m okay,” Asmaul says. “I say I’m held and helped by God, my family and the hope that I will see my child again,” she said.
Her grief is not over, but she is overcoming the part that tried to destroy her. Because faith gave her a place to put her child when her arms couldn’t anymore.
She continued, “This is how I now live and life is counting for me again. Since I cannot die with a child, I move on.”
There is strength in her new lifestyle, forgetting what you cannot bring back and chasing what you can accomplish.
Her advice: “Don’t die for what is beyond you. Rise above grief to avoid depression and destruction. Life is worth living. Let the dead go and be gone forever.”
