What. A. Year.
I never would have imagined that I would go almost a year between blog posts. In fact, I have a draft of a post about weigh loss* that I was going to publish when the kids went back to school after Spring Break…
…turns out, that didn’t happen until mid-October.
*And boy oh boy, will weight loss be a topic for 2021. I know I’m not alone in being an eater-of-feelings, and boy did this year give many of us reason to indulge in our worst vices.
I won’t be the first or last to find the events of 2020 to be beyond description. But I know of one word that is a start: grief.
I have a lot of things to work through to find meaning in the crazy year we’re wrapping up today. I’ve found myself thinking initially in terms of two categories of grief: micro and macro.
Micro griefs are those that have hit hardest under my roof.
Like my daughter celebrating her seventh birthday not with a big bash, but a drive-by parades. And my son ending his time in elementary school with… a drive-thru parade instead of the in-person fanfare that would properly culminate the six years that precious place nurtured my boy and our whole family.
And our sweet dog, Hannah, passing in July. She led a long life, so we knew the day was coming; but oh how it broke our hearts to say goodbye to our first “baby.” We still miss her so much.
In October, our sweet son got an additional diagnosis: epilepsy. Finding him seizing in his room after bedtime will remain one of the scariest moments of my life, though thankfully, he is doing well on a preventative medication.
And as for December? Well, out of – say that 2020 catchphrase with me – an abundance of caution after my daughter was in class with someone who had a positive COVID test, we opted to stay isolated for the holidays. We made the best of it, to be sure, but missing out on our beloved traditions was another loss in a year full of them.
These are the biggest micro griefs, but they don’t encompass everything: the time we have missed with beloved friends and family. The sadness and disruption to real life that my children have experienced.
But these micro griefs seem so small in comparison to what I’ll label the macro griefs – those griefs that permeate universally.
Like the incredible polarization in our country. Such hatred and division.
And the collective numbness, it seems, we have developed to tragedy. Nearly 20 million people have had the coronavirus; over 300,000 have died from it; and that, inexplicably, the collective response to this tragic loss of life seems to be, at “best,” a shrug, and, at worst, minimization or even outright denial.
That loss of life – on the micro level – means that under thousands and upon thousands of roofs, there is unbearable pain and suffering.
I lack the eloquence both to do justice to that pain and to attempt to heal it.
It’s a rainy and cold day here in the Dallas area, and it seems a particularly fitting setting for the end of a year that has brought so much despair.
I’m hoping fervently that the storms we’ve weathered in 2020 make way for new things to grow.
If you, dear reader, have lost someone you love this year: I am praying that you find comfort and peace.
I know 2021 won’t be easy, but I’m hopeful. Hopeful that we can heal from the griefs (micro and macro) that have plagued us; hopeful that we can make amends for our worst ways; and hopeful that we can begin anew and find joy in the new year.
I plan to write MUCH more in 2021… I hope you’ll join me!
