There are a lot of jokes or terrible puns I could make about the year 2020 to begin this blog post. I suspect most would not be very original, or funny, so I will spare you. I can’t help but think back to this time last year (December 31, 2019) and chuckle to myself. If only we could have been warned about the “unprecedented times” that lay ahead.

AEP’s first 2020 wedding, pre pandemic, pre face masks and social distancing. Photography by Denis Crider.

Last night I was prompted to reflect back on this year… this unbearable year that just never seemed to let up. I cried thinking of the tremendous losses we have endured this year. Loss of jobs; loss of loved ones; loss of milestone events like graduations, proms, class trips; postponed, rescheduled or drastically altered weddings; loss of our identity; loss of security; loss of physical or mental health; loss of hope; loss of faith in humanity; loss of faith in anything.

Unfortunately, not unique to 2020, too many of our black and brown brothers and sisters were killed, and once again linked arms to continue to fight systemic racism and injustice. It pains me to admit that it was a long overdue awakening for some (maybe a lot) of white people. While that awakening is necessary and important, it also opened our eyes to the ignorance of friends, even family. Hidden behind keyboards, we saw individuals’ true colors pour out onto our computer screens, and in many cases, it was not pretty. We experienced loneliness and isolation, as well as the lack of time for ourselves; sometimes we experienced both in the same day. Each one of us experienced trauma. And because of social media, we not only felt the pain of our own traumas, but we had front row seats to the trauma of everyone else, which compounded our grief and our fear. It’s hard to have hope when all you see is division, hatred, and anger.

So now that I have completely depressed you, let me transition to more positive reflections. As hard as 2020 was to live through, there was beauty as well. Nurses, doctors, paramedics, teachers, delivery workers, cashiers, grocers, and everyone who works to make sure the toilet paper is stocked… they sacrificed and persevered during what I hope is the hardest year of their careers. Family members, neighbors, even complete strangers came together to help one another during times of need. And perhaps corporate America gained a newfound appreciation for working parents.

It is my hope that someday, when the wounds aren’t as fresh, we can look back on 2020 and marvel at our resilience. It is my hope that we can remember the pain of this year, and through that memory, hold our loved ones closer, cherish each precious moment and most importantly, believe in ourselves a little more. Like a phoenix rises from ashes, we can rise up from the past year, all the damage it left behind, and walk away from it. I want to remind you that you are enough just as you are today.

Tomorrow, things won’t truly feel different. We will still be living through a pandemic. We will still be fighting racial injustice. We will still have to face up to hardship and pain. But there will also be healing. It won’t happen all at once, and it is going to take a lot of work. It will come slowly, little by little, one day at a time. But I think we proved to ourselves that we are capable. The seeds we planted during this hellish year are going to bloom into beautiful flowers, trees and forests. The work we put in during this year taught us the importance of tending to ourselves, to each other, to our gardens. Think of the possibility of 2021’s harvest .

From all of us, to every single one of you, Happy new year!