Tears and New Years.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love."
-Washington Irving

We are in that weird time between Christmas and New Year's Day where the hours just kind of roll around and make no sense.  There's a ridiculous amount of time spent in pajamas, under blankets, mugs next to us filled with tea or coffee and it's just a bizarre time - the days come and go and you aren't quite sure what day it is or how much time you've spent zoning out watching movies and shows on tv.

Or am I the only one?

Those weeks and days between Thanksgiving and Christmas go by so quick (unless you are a teacher, in which case, we all know they last forever), and you rush to get things done in time for Christmas - presents to buy and wrap, things to bake, houses to decorate, cards to write and mail.

For most people, that is.  For some of us, we are just doing our best to get through each day.

That end of the year feeling that hits me (and I'm guessing most of us who deal with loss) makes me want to stay in bed most of the time.  It makes me want to me be even less social than I usually am.  Don't get me wrong - I do go out.  I do see people.  I can be the delightful social butterfly - I just would rather not.

Probably because I know that the tears hit hard right about now.  And I like to welcome those tears in private.

It's not that I'm ashamed of the fact that I still cry - not at all.  I know that the tears represent great love - a love I am grateful and proud to have experienced. 

I know that.  

And now, if you're reading this, you know that.  Or maybe you're one who's experiencing it right now.

But I still cry.  For big reasons and for little ones.

And each reason, each tear, is valid and powerful.

I started writing this a few days ago (not sure what day it was, actually) but today is New Year's Eve.  Life kind of got life-ish and distraction set in.

Tonight is the third New Year's Eve since Sean died.  My third alone.  Alone by choice.  I had invitations to go out, but, as usual, chose to stay home.

Tonight is also the final episode of Stranger Things.  I started watching it right before I met Sean.  He wanted nothing to do with it at first, but, as with most things involving the two of us, I was very convincing in my argument that he should watch.  So we rewatched the first season the few days before season 2 began.  And, as most people who watch, he became hooked.  We watched the next three seasons together - something we really loved doing.  We would order pizza, binge three episodes, lie in bed and discuss what happened and what we thought would come next.  

At 8pm, the final episode will air.  I ordered a pizza.  But tonight, unlike all the other season finales, there will be no discussion, no conversations, no recaps.

I'm sure there will be some tears - for several reasons - not just because this silly little show is ending after 10 years.

When I look back at this year, I am proud of what I accomplished.  It wasn't an easy year. But it was one where I turned 50, took a solo vacation, fulfilled a promise, made new friends, got to celebrate a group of women (who met long ago when we were still girls in college), looked for and found rainbows, and learned that being alone isn't the worst thing, even though the reason for it sucks.

I also learned that sometimes, one of the best ways to work through your own grief is to help others work through theirs - especially when it's new and fresh and raw.

So, while I am spending the end of one year alone, I am not lonely.

And tomorrow, when the new year begins, I'll be ready for it.

Probably with a tear or two, but the good kind.  

The powerful kind.

And I'll be searching for rainbows when I take those first steps into 2026.