I started 2020 shattered to my very core, unsure of who I was or how I would continue to get from one day to the next. Both literally and figuratively, it was simply a year of survival for me. As I sit and reflect on how much we have changed in this endless year, I am shocked to find so much positivity woven throughout a year I would characterize as genuinely devastating.
In 2020, grief has been woven into who I am. I know see grief as a familiar companion, one I have learned (mostly) to predict and rely upon. I have learned how important it is to simply acknowledge and validate the anguish that grief brings without trying to fix it. Grief is exhausting, and I am learning to be okay with that and just allow each moment to be what it is, rather than placing unrealistic expectations on myself. I learned how to trust my own process and appreciate small comforts and moments of delight more completely.
I learned about vulnerability and honesty, and how important both are to fostering meaningful relationships. I have learned how to carry conflicting emotions simultaneously, and how to feel strong and fragile, or broken and healed at the same time. I learned how painful the simplest of moments can be in this new life without Reed, and also how much comfort and power can live in the smallest detail.
This past year gave me the most important friendship, perhaps of my whole life. I met a woman whose constant companionship, acceptance, and love have healed parts of me I thought would never be whole again. While I hate the circumstances that brought us together, I am so grateful our boys helped us find each other. This year has brought some relationships to a screeching and painful halt, and has allowed others to blossom into deep and honest friendships. I am grateful for the love and support that has surrounded us, and endlessly appreciative of all those who continue to make space for our son.
2020 allowed us time to strengthen our marriage, and I have more pride and faith in my husband than ever before. The challenges we have faced in this past year have brought us together, and I have been amazed every day to see what a truly extraordinary man Marc is. He is brave and silently strong, patient and unfailingly generous. This past year, I have seen him overcome so much, without asking for anything in return. I cannot give him enough credit for all he has done for our family. He is an amazing husband and a devoted father, and I could not have survived this year without him.
Most importantly, this is the year I learned how to be a parent. It has been difficult, and painful, and every day my heart breaks again. But I have also learned how to trust my instincts as a mother. I have learned how to honor my child, and have been humbled and moved to tears by how much love exists for him. We have spent the past year learning how to incorporate Reed into every single day. We have developed new traditions to include him, we have taken time to focus on him every day, and we have learned what our family of three looks like. I have found ways to protect my son and ways to share him, and I have learned so much from being his mother.
While I still worry that, in the absence of growth milestones and cheerful stories of toddlerhood, Reed will become smaller and smaller to the world around us, this past year has also taught me that he will never be gone. I am going into 2021 with a better idea of how to carry Reed with us, and with more confidence that he will not ever be forgotten or fade, no matter how much time has passed. I have learned how to embrace the sadness and longing that parenting Reed brings; it is, after all, only there because he existed and because we love him.
It is incredible to me how our brains can reframe things from day to day. Some days, I look back at this past year and see only the bleak, broken landscape I have walked across since last December. Other times, I look back and see so much goodness being salvaged from those dark places. Most of the time, it is a curious blend of the two that I usually don’t fully understand. What I know for sure is that, no matter how much good this past year held, or how many valuable lessons I have learned, it does not undo all of the hurt that has also existed. Every day, I am embracing this idea. Life isn’t simple. We don’t have to ignore our heartache to see the good, or find ourselves transformed after profound heartache.
I wrestle with the new year. 2020 has been hard for so many, and I do not find myself sharing the same optimistic hope that next year will be different. We are carrying the same losses and heartaches and fears right into this new year. We are also going into this year with pretty clear evidence that even the most unexpected tragedies can occur. Anything is possible, and that is a terrifying reality to live in. But here we are.
I have learned how to acknowledge these fears without always becoming lost in them. I have learned how essential it is to allow space for worry and heartache, and to validate all emotions...even the ones we don’t want to feel. Because of this, I now see how I can carry hope alongside my fears.
May this year bring less unpredictable pain and more comfort and companionship for us all.
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