As the year drew to a close and the world was gripped by the relentless onslaught of COVID-19, my family was dealt another crushing blow. On a dreary December day, when the sky was heavy with clouds and raindrops fell like tears from heaven, my beloved grandfather departed this world, leaving us to grapple with the weight of our grief.
For me, his loss felt particularly acute. Already burdened by the challenges of managing my diabetes at such a tender age, I found myself reeling from the additional emotional upheaval that his passing brought. But it was my mother
who bore the brunt of the sorrow, as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that her child had been diagnosed with such a life-altering condition, only to lose her father in quick succession.
The world outside may have been consumed by the pandemic, but for us, the pain of this loss was all- consuming. As we mourned my grandfather's passing, we clung to each other for support, knowing that the road ahead would be long and arduous. But at that moment, amid our sorrow, we also found solace in the fact that we had each other, and that together, we would weather this storm.
As I sat there in the pews, surrounded by my grieving family members, I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the sombre proceedings. My
grandfather's passing had undoubtedly affected us all deeply, yet I found myself unable to shed a single tear at his funeral, or even in the days that followed.
I pride myself on my ability to articulate my thoughts and emotions with clarity and precision. But at this moment, I couldn't help but wonder if I had lost control over my understanding of my feelings. Had my repertoire of tears run dry, or had I simply become accustomed to people disappearing from my life?
The weight of these questions lingered with me long after the service had ended, and I knew that I needed to delve deeper into my psyche to find the answers that eluded me. It was a journey of self-discovery that would ultimately lead me to a deeper understanding of myself, and the complex ways in which we as humans process grief and loss.
As I reflect on my life, I can vividly remember the moment when I made the difficult decision to leave school and prioritize my physical and emotional well-being. It was just a few weeks before my birthday, and I knew that I needed to take a step back and give myself the time and space to heal.
To commemorate the occasion and to catch up with my friends from school, we decided to have a lunch meeting about a week before my birthday. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and we gathered at a cosy restaurant to chat about my plans and where life would take me next.
The conversation flowed effortlessly for hours as we laughed, reminisced, and shared our hopes and dreams for the future. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing that our
time together would be limited as we all headed in different directions.
Little did we know that this lunch meeting would mark the end of an era, as just a few days later, the COVID-19 pandemic would hit Morocco and change our lives forever. I remember the fear and uncertainty that swept through the country as news of the first case broke, and how quickly the virus spread, leading to a nationwide lockdown. Looking back, that sunny day spent with my friends seems like a distant memory, but it remains a symbol of the friendships, laughter, and hope that we all held onto during those uncertain times.
It had been four weeks since the lockdown began, and surprisingly, I was already starting to enjoy it. It was like a
breath of fresh air in my life, giving me the space and time I needed to heal.
The absence of people, school, and even family was a welcomed change, and I relished the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts. I still remember the first time I ventured out with a mask and medical gloves to see my diabetes doctor. It was a necessary trip, and I felt like one of the chosen ones as I walked down the empty streets with just a few cars driving by.
As the weeks went by, I found myself getting used to the routine. The empty streets became my sanctuary, and I enjoyed the company of the few cats that roamed around, going about their own business. It was a peaceful existence, and I cherished every moment of it.
Looking back, those four months of lockdown were pivotal points in my life. It allowed me to slow down, reflect on my priorities, and focus on my well-being. And for that, I will forever be grateful.
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