More than 3,000 miles away, I had to experience my grief alone. My parents were busy working and, even when I was sure they heard me crying myself to sleep, they never said anything. About a year later, my great-grandfather passed away, too. By then, I had the English proficiency to articulate my feelings to my new friends, but I still felt like I couldn’t because doing so would mean explaining why I couldn’t travel back home for his funeral. This grief, known as transnational grief, became overwhelming for me in my middle school years, eventually leading to mental health issues, like depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder, that I am still learning to live with and manage.
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