The Weight Of The Stone.

Title: The Weight of the Stone

For as long as she could remember, Amina carried a stone in her backpack.

Not a literal stone—but something far heavier. Guilt. Regret. Shame. All tightly packed and worn close, hidden behind smiles and nods. Ever since the accident that took her brother's life five years ago, she blamed herself. She was driving. The rain was heavy. The argument had distracted her. And then, silence.

Everyone told her it wasn’t her fault. But their words couldn’t match the voice in her head that screamed otherwise. She carried that voice everywhere—into work, into friendships, into the dead silence of sleepless nights.

Amina stopped living and started performing. She excelled at her job, always helped others, but avoided any real connection. The stone was too big, and no one would understand.

One Saturday, she found herself at a grief support group. She didn’t plan to speak. Just sit. Observe. Maybe learn how others dealt with their own stones. Then, a woman across the room shared a story—shockingly similar to hers. A brother. A crash. The haunting aftermath.

Something cracked open in Amina.

She raised her hand.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, but the words came out anyway—each sentence like peeling off a layer of armor she didn’t know she was still wearing. By the end, her face was wet with tears. So was everyone else's.

After the meeting, people hugged her. No judgment. No advice. Just shared humanity.

That night, for the first time in five years, Amina slept without waking up from nightmares. It was as if the stone had shrunk just a little. It didn’t vanish. But it was lighter. Manageable.

She started attending the group weekly. Then, eventually, she helped lead it. Every time she listened to someone else unburden themselves, it reminded her: she wasn’t alone.

One day, walking home from a meeting, she looked up at the sky and whispered, “I’m sorry,” to her brother. But then she smiled and added, “And thank you… for staying with me in your own way.”

Moral: You have no idea what relief it is—until you let go of what you were never meant to carry alone.