It has been 16 years since my baby sister Sahar was taken from us and yet the pain remains as vivid as it was that day. Sahar wasn’t just my youngest sister. She was the heart of our family, a bright, loving presence whose life was cut short in a way no family should ever have to endure.

Today marks 10 years since my husband’s passing. A decade ago, I was faced with a choice—two paths that seemed like the only options at the time. One was to keep grieving, to allow myself to be consumed by loss and remain a victim of my circumstances.