Broken But Not Defeated: I Am the Last, and I Still Rise

I was born the 11th child in a family of twelve six girls and six boys. The last of the girls. I was the baby who grew up surrounded by love, laughter, and protection. We were loud. We were close. We were everything.

Now, I am the only girl  left. I’ve lost five sisters, six brothers, both my parents, my grandparents, aunties who were like mothers to me. Grief did not knock gently, it stormed into my life and never left. There is no one left to call “sister.” No one who shares my childhood memories. No one remembers the sound of our mother’s voice like I do. And yet I’m still standing.

I had no choice but to grow up fast. I was forced into responsibility while still grieving. I became the guardian of the children my family left behind. I moved to Europe not for comfort, but for survival. I worked hard, holding onto the memory of those I lost, pushing through pain to keep their dreams alive.

Even when I thought I could breathe again, I lost someone who had become like a father to me in this foreign land. The pain came rushing back.

But through the tears, I made a decision: grief will not break me

I left my media career to care for others, to give back, to turn my scars into service. Every day, I pray. Every day, I choose to love. I choose purpose over pain.

To every grieving soul: You are not alone. Let the pain shape you, not stop you. You are stronger than your sorrow. Your story isn’t over.

I am living proof that even when you lose everything you can still rise.