My Story

I finished high school in Brazil when I was just 16 years old. At the time, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do next, so I took a break. When I turned 18, I decided to come to the United States to study English. It was a leap into the unknown, but I was eager to embrace the challenge.

Leaving home was not easy. I was always very close to my mom, my best friend, my greatest supporter. The distance was difficult, and I missed my family every day, especially her. But over time, I began to feel like I belonged in this country. I started envisioning a future for myself here and decided to apply to college, ready to take the next step toward building a life in the U.S.

Then, everything changed.

On the morning of January 20, 2022, at 10 AM, I received a phone call that shattered my world. My mom had passed away from a heart attack. A woman with such a beautiful, big heart - what a cruel irony. In that moment, I lost more than just my mother; I lost myself.

Life stopped making sense. Food lost its taste. I abandoned painting, something I once loved. I withdrew from my family and friends, unable to find the words to express the weight of my grief. More than anything, I felt guilt. What if I had never left? What if I had been there? Could I have done something? These thoughts consumed me, leaving me trapped in an endless cycle of doubt and regret.

For a long time, I let my grief define me. But life, as I've learned, has a way of pushing forward, even when we feel like we can't. Slowly, I started taking small steps toward healing. I returned to college full-time, determined to finish what I had started. I got my first corporate job as a SQL Developer, a role I never imagined for myself but one that has challenged and inspired me in ways I never expected. I started reconnecting with my family and friends, allowing myself to be part of the world again.

Still, certain days felt unbearable. My mom's birthday is exactly one week before mine. Since she passed, I haven't celebrated either. But last November 22nd, I found myself listening to her old voice messages, something I had been too afraid to do before. As I played through them, I felt a sharp pain in my chest, my breathing grew heavy, and before I knew it, my cheeks were wet with tears. Then, I stumbled upon a message I had never heard before.

In it, my mom spoke about how everything happens for a reason. She told me she would always be with me and how proud she was of her daughter.

Something inside me shifted that day.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted to live - not just exist, but truly live. This year, I made a promise to myself: I would stop letting grief define me. I would move forward, not because I have to, but because I want to.