2025 ends tonight. Another year that didn't know you, at least in the flesh.
The first year that didn't know Gramma here.
I spent the last week trying (and succeeding) in staying busy, distracted, avoiding introspection. I guess it worked. I didn't cry, much. But my soul still feels the heaviness, the emptiness that missing you entails. And tonight is quiet.
2025 was the year I passed my boards and became fully licensed. It was also the year I tried to remember I couldn't call Mom when I needed to hear her voice. It was a year of growth, of trials, of supporting loved ones through their own heartache and heartbreak, as well as other medical moms and friends.
It was also a year of celebration: a wedding and grandbabies on the way.
This time of year is so dark, but the light is slowly returning (although it's definitely getting colder still). It's quiet at home, most of the time. I've slowed down. The things I planned for the holiday break mostly didn't happen, but other good things did. Time with family, with grandchildren. A road trip to see the new baby and soak in her sweet spirit.
This morning as I was returning from an errand, an instrumental version of "He Is Risen" was playing just as the sun was rising. Two seagulls floated on updrafts above the road. The crystal angel on my rearview mirror caught the sunbeams and reflected rainbows. As I went to the cemetery to clean up the Christmas decorations, I caught your smile. My heart ached, but also felt peace.
I don't know what 2026 will bring. Part of moving forward in time is feeling stretched beyond my ability. Part of me is stuck back on December 23, 2023 and then part moves forward. Someone recently said that you don't survive the loss of a child. The person you were before dies; you are not the same, and I feel that. The person I was two years and a week ago is gone; her innocence, her naivete, her invincibility does not exist anymore. But maybe, just maybe, that's okay. Maybe the growth, though painful, is part of the refining process I need to become more like you, and like my Savior.
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