The first time I learned about grief

I could hear my mom screaming on the phone in Arabic, “Bilal! Bilal! What do you mean he died from a heart attack? People in America walk away from heart attacks!” I was 16 and trying to process what couldn’t possibly be true. How could my uncle who leaped with boundless energy be dead? How could my uncle who wasn’t even going to turn 50 for a few more years be dead?

It didn’t make any sense.

The grief and loss my mother and the rest of my family felt for my Uncle Bilal were tremendous. Khallo Bilal was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of person…