Never Give Up: 730 Days After Mama Died

Another early morning awakening.
And as always, she is there.

I think of her.
I dream of her.
My mind drifts back to scenes of our life together, replaying them like soft echoes crossing time. Each time I revisit them, something new unveils itself: a deeper understanding, a gentler insight, a truth I was not able to see when she was here.

And with each new understanding, my appreciation for my mama expands.
I appreciate who she was.
I appreciate what she did.
I appreciate what she endured, what she fought for, and what she stood up for.

Because despite the never-ending obstacles, despite the pain, despite the quiet hurts she carried alone, she never gave up.

Two Years Without Her

It has been two years.
Exactly 730 days since I lost her.
And I miss her just as much as I did on day one.

I miss her presence.
I miss her voice.
I miss her strength and her determined spirit. The kind that did not need to announce itself, because it simply was there.

But now, two years later, something else lives alongside the grief that I am carrying: painful clarity.

In the 730 days without her, I have come to understand everything I never fully expressed: the depth of my love, my admiration, my gratitude for the woman who gave me life and stood beside me in so many crucial moments. Some realizations revealed themselves only after she was gone. That in itself is its own quiet sorrow.

Yet the lessons she left me have grown brighter.
More defined. Clearer. Almost shining.

Her Strength, Unmatched

My mama was small, beautiful, and determined. She was one of the strongest women I have ever known. I understand that more with every passing day.

She weathered obstacle after obstacle, hurt after hurt, and still carried herself with dignity and grace. She did not allow pain to diminish her courage, nor difficulty to close her heart. She lived with conviction, with purpose, and with an unwavering commitment to family.

Yes: family. Family was the center of her universe. And there was nothing, truly nothing, she would not do for us. She believed deeply that children deserved both mother and father, and she fought for that belief with an intensity I rarely see in this world today.

How she protected our family was admirable.
How she stood for what was right was admirable.
How she endured the weight of life, even when it felt impossible, was admirable.

And yet, at the end, we gave up on her in ways she never gave up on us.
That remains the deepest wound for me personally. The one that just cannot heal.

She never gave up on life.
She never gave up on healing.
She never wanted to burden anyone.
Even in her final moments, she looked for ways to keep going, ways to get stronger, ways to stay with us.

She did not want to leave.

And the truth that haunts me is this:
We trusted predictions, statistics, colleagues, and traditional medicine.
We surrendered to what we were told. Chances of survival. Things are being done “traditional way.”

We trusted.
And in that trust, we let go before she did.

How I wish we had fought even harder.
How I wish I had held on longer. Not only 21 months.
How I wish I had never allowed not-well-meaning voices to drain me emotionally. How I wish I had never given up, not until it was unmistakably, unquestionably her time.

730 Days… and the Message Arrives

This morning, 730 days after she died, I wondered why the memories felt sharper.
Why were the dreams vivid?
Why was the clarity heavy, almost insistent?

And then, almost like a whisper from somewhere beyond, I discovered the spiritual meaning of 730:

Life will become remarkable if you follow the process and never give up.

How extraordinary.
How fitting.
How perfectly aligned with her life and her legacy.

My mama never gave up, even when her body could no longer hold her spirit.
Her spirit remained unshakable.

And today, on this symbolic day, her message feels clear and direct:

Never give up.

Life is challenging.
Life demands resilience.
But if I stay determined and do not give up, I will rise.
I will live the life I dream of.
In this very moment, I feel that I am stronger, more capable, more resilient than I ever realized.

Just like her.

The Lessons She Leaves Me

My mama taught me more than she ever knew. These are some of the lessons I now carry like lanterns:

• Fight for your family. Always.
• Stand for what is right.
• Never give up.
• Strive for excellence, not perfection. Just get things done.
• Expect fairness, from yourself and from others.
• Allow mistakes, your own and everyone else’s, and keep going.
• Step into another’s shoes before judging.
• Be outgoing, courageous, open-hearted.
• Move through fear and beyond it.
• Failure is part of life, so learn from it.
• Keep an open mind, but also an open heart.
• Step out of your comfort zone; life demands it.
• And most importantly: never give up. 

She lived these lessons.
She embodied them.
She practiced them, from learning new languages, living in different countries, to rebuilding life again and again with courage that looked effortless from the outside.

She suffered, more than most will ever know, yet succeeded in the most essential way: she raised children who loved her deeply.
She deserved more time.
More peace.
More years to enjoy the fruits of her sacrifices.

And I wish, with everything in me, that she had been given that chance.

My Work, My Mission, My Promise to Her

The number 730 stands in front of me clearly. It is a reminder:

Stand tall.
Continue the work I am meant to do: in medicine, in education, and through the innovations I create with Indelible Learning.

My work matters. Our work matters.
It changes lives either in medicine or in education.
It shapes healthier and hopefully kinder people.
It creates an impact that is aligned with her mission to be a helper and a light warrior.

I know she would be proud.

So, no matter how many challenges come, and they will, I must NOT give up.
I just cannot. 

Because my mama never gave up.
Because her strength runs through my veins.
Because resilience is my inheritance from her.

And because finally, I have to have the courage to show the full measure of my strength, the strength she built, the strength she entrusted to me. She relied on it. She would want it. 

I have to continue living, working, creating with her, through her, and for her.

As the day comes to a close, my mama’s final message still echoes: 

Face your fears.
Go beyond them.
Stand tall.

Because I am with you.
Become more than you thought possible.
And never, ever give up.