Lahela has an older brother, and I cherish both of my children deeply. Every decision I've made in life has been guided by thoughts of them. I often find myself bragging about my kids; I take immense pride in being their mother. I worry about them, share laughter with them, and love them wholeheartedly. My life can be divided into two timelines: before Lahela passed and after. I strive every day to maintain a positive outlook, though it’s a challenging endeavor.
A recurring thought that crosses my mind is about my own mortality and how much simpler it might be to just let go. I have one child in the afterlife and another who is very much here with me now. My daily struggle lies in being present for my son while figuring out how to continue mothering my daughter. To the outside world, I wear a smile, but my internal battles often remain unspoken—until now, with the creation of this website.
This is my love letter to Lahela. My love for her did not cease on the day her life ended; in fact, I loved her even before she came into this world. I was overjoyed when the radiologist informed me I was having a girl, eagerly anticipating the moment I would finally meet her. Lahela was so different from what I had imagined. Her vibrant personality could light up any room, filling it with laughter. She possessed remarkable intelligence and a quick wit.
Yet, she faced her own struggles. At times, she would observe her older brother and feel as though we loved him more than her. I recognized this as a whisper from her mental health. I made a conscious decision not to compare my son to my daughter, a commitment I upheld even before Lahela entered my life. I understood that they were two distinct individuals, and I would never question why one was not like the other. I already knew: they were simply not the same person. So, when I smile for the world, this is the complexity that lies beneath.
