Whew, I did it. On this fifth holiday season without Emily, I got through it without barely shedding a tear. I focused on my family and upheld the traditions that were so dear to my oldest child. Memories of her surfaced at times, like when I made the fudge she always helped with, which didn’t turn out right; and especially as I sat in church on Christmas Eve, reminiscing about her roles in the Christmas pageant. Yet, the pain wasn’t as acute this year, perhaps dulled by time. It feels almost traitorous to admit, but I’m gradually getting accustomed to Emily’s absence. This realization is unsettling, suggesting that such a devastating loss might somehow be acceptable, which it never will be. Emily’s untimely death will never be okay. But in a way that feels almost disloyal, I’ve started to accept it. Refusing to do so would mean remaining trapped in a perpetual limbo between past and present, denying the fact that my life didn’t end with hers.
This New Year’s Day, however, I’m engulfed in melancholy for no specific reason. Maybe it’s because I charged through the holidays, resolved to persevere. And now, facing another year without Emily, I can hardly believe it marks six years since her passing. Six years of what should have been her vibrant young adulthood, lost. Recently, I learned that one of her closest friends has been in and out of treatment at least six times and may now be homeless. Yet, there are others, her friends, who have found love, careers, and even started families. What path would Emily have taken? These unanswerable questions continue to haunt me.
I realize that the heaviness in my heart is a constant presence, sharpened into focus by the holidays. It intensifies when I hear about tragedies like the recent fentanyl poisoning of a teenage girl in a nearby community, just before Christmas. I desperately wish to spare other families from this anguish. Despite our relentless efforts with Emily’s Hope, the dreadful scourge of fentanyl persists. I sometimes feel like a solitary, heartbroken soldier in an endless battle, doubting victory.
Yet, I remind myself of the incredible journey that has brought me here, six years later, engaged in work I never envisioned. It’s the people who have entered my life, imparting wisdom, offering support, and joining a mission they never sought, but have wholeheartedly adopted. There are those touched by similar losses who now seek my comfort, and astonishingly, I find the strength to provide it. I can’t claim credit for any of this. Whether it’s God, the universe, or some higher power, I’ve witnessed the metaphorical mountains move in mysterious ways. These experiences enable me to bear this grief, find purpose within it, and still have moments of joy amidst the horrific loss that has led me to this New Year’s Day.
Faith, Hope & Courage,
Angela
Leave a Reply