Carrying Grief into a New Year
Content warning: mention of suicide
Nothing magical happens when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve, but even so, I need to know the moment the old year passes and the new one starts. I count down with the rest of them and hold on to a hope that the next 365 days will be exciting and happy and painless and new.
But the moment always passes and the grief I carry comes with me into whatever the new year holds. I am not new; I am more like years of sediment solidifying on top of each other. Always changing, but still never completely different. Maybe you feel the same?
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