January 1, 2014, is when I became a mom,
April 26, 2014, is when I lost mine.

Becoming and losing the greatest love of your life in the same year changes you forever. Since then, I’ve returned to writing as a way to make sense of grief, identity, motherhood, ambition, love, and the invisible threads that continue to shape us long after someone is gone.

These letters are part reflection, part remembrance, and part conversation with the woman who shaped so much of how I move through the world.

Over time, I realized these letters were about more than grief. They were helping me uncover the invisible systems that shape us: family roles, cultural expectations, silence, caregiving, ambition, belonging, and identity.

Long before I had language for systems design, I was already living inside those dynamics and trying to understand them.

Some years are heavier than others. Some are full of gratitude, anger, longing, or growth. All of them are honest.

I’m sharing them for anyone who has had to learn how to keep becoming without the people who first taught them who they were.

Over time, these reflections became part of the foundation for the work I do today: helping people uncover and redesign the unseen forces shaping how they live, work, and lead.

I hope these letters make you feel a little less alone.

Year Two - Musings on Life after death
Loss, Grief, Parenting Twisha Shah-Brandenburg Loss, Grief, Parenting Twisha Shah-Brandenburg

Year Two - Musings on Life after death

After my mom’s untimely death, I have spent the last couple of years wanting to be exactly like her. I wanted to replicate everything that put a smile on people’s faces. I wanted to be the woman I heard in people's stories about her as they fondly remembered their time together.

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