Two Years On, Her Light Still Glows

Two Years On, Her Light Still Glows

Habiba Sam

Two years have slipped quietly by since the icy  of death snatched you from our midst, dear sister-in-law. Yet time has not dimmed your light. Your laughter still echoes in the corners of our home, your kindness still walks the paths you once walked, and your love still wraps around us like a familiar shawl on a cold evening.

Death thought it had the final word when it stole you away. But it did not know you. It did not know that some souls are too radiant to be buried, too tender to be forgotten, too deeply woven into ours to ever truly leave.

In every family gathering, there is an empty chair that only your smile could fill. In every prayer, there is a whisper of your name. In every act of grace among us, there is the imprint of the woman you were—gentle, generous, elegant in spirit, and fierce in love.

Two years today, and the ache still visits. But so does gratitude. Gratitude that we had you. Gratitude that for a season, God lent us an angel who taught us how to love without measure and how to stand with quiet strength.

The earth took your body, but it could not take the music of your life. Your memory is evergreen—watered by our tears, warmed by our stories, rooted deep in the garden of our hearts where no winter can reach.

Sleep on, beloved sister. You are not gone. You have only stepped into the light ahead of us, and we will find you there in every act of kindness, every moment of grace, and every sunrise that reminds us love never dies.