2020. I NEVER want to see those numbers again. Then in the next breath I do. This is grief. There is never an absolute. There is never an end. It is never that simple. Do I hate 2020, with every ounce of my being? Do I love 2020, with every ounce of my being? Yes it was the worst year of my life, I lost my beautiful baby girl. But it was also the year that I rocked her, hugged her, kissed her, talked to her, laughed with her, shopped with her, watched her swim, dance, flip, and run. 2020 was the last time I would ever hold her hand. So I have decided that I won’t define 2020. I have decided that 2020 can be what it was, horrible and beautiful.
We have been grieving our greatest loss in the midst of a pandemic which seems impossible but we are doing it. Somedays we wake up and get through it. Other days you just want to stay put and pray the nightmare ends. There are people we have wanted to see and hug yet we can’t. But that’s 2020. It has taken all the support away from those who need it most. And as challenging as that has been we have still felt it. I can’t believe the group of friends I have that have chosen to walk through my darkest moments, and never once did I ask. They truly just showed up. I can’t believe the community we are part of. The generosity, the kindness and the endless support. With grief there is even goodness, it’s never an absolute.
So soon 2020 will end and that’s okay. Time passes and dates change but what can never change is the amount of grace and beauty I witnessed in my four year old. 2020 is a year but not one that will define Melina. I have learned Melina is so much greater than all of us. Melina chose Joy everyday of her life. Melina chose Joy in 2020. So 2020 can end but that’s that funny thing with grief. Everything around you will change, time continues, but the impacts that we leave behind last forever.
Thank you Melina for leaving us your Joy. 💚🌈