My Mother Was Afraid to Leave 2020 Behind
Because that’s where I last existed.
At the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve, my mother stepped out onto her balcony. She has done that most nights since I’ve been gone, but she waited until midnight on New Year's. It is symbolic, I suppose.
For ten minutes the air around her sounded how a war-torn country must sound every night, all the time.
Blasts of fireworks echoed from all directions. Clusters of pops and cracks, people shouting Happy New Year, and car horns pierced the darkness. Celebrations for the exit of the shit storm of 2020, ushering in new hope for a better year.
People came out of isolation like bears in the springtime to celebrate the turn of a calendar page. But not my mom. She retreated further inside herself and her sadness because of what she had to leave behind.
My mother never got to see me alive in 2020 because of the pandemic. She only saw the cold shell that used to be me. But I saw her. I get to see her every day now.
When I was alive, I lived a twelve-hour drive or a quick, one-hour flight away. But the virus prevented us from traveling. Our last visit — and our last hug — was in December of 2019.
It silently kills her inside to think that I never received a single, loving mother’s hug in 2020.
If we had known it would be our last would we have done anything differently? Hugged a little tighter? Held it a lot longer?
Since I’ve been gone, my mother steps out onto her balcony even on cold winter nights to talk to the stars. She believes I am one of those stars, along with the moon, the sun, the mountains, and the ocean.
When I was alive, I didn’t believe I was worthy of being a star. That’s the incredible thing about moms…they see their children in the brightest of lights, regardless of how dim we may feel.
Maybe that’s why I’m able to make her lights flicker now. She believed I was her brightest light right until the end of my life and she still does.
Millions of people said goodbye to 2020 the same way my mom did; grief-stricken, lonely, and empty, having left loved ones behind. 2020 was a year more people said goodbye than any other year in modern times.
While most were glad to let the year go, many are stuck in it, trying to figure out how to let go when it’s the last place some of us existed.
But from the outside looking in — or should I say, looking down — I can say everything will be alright.
They are going to be okay.
They just need to give it time.
These ‘memoirs of a dead guy’ are lovingly written by a mother who lost her son on September 29th, 2020. His life stories and struggles are compelling and she writes as a means to connect to others who may have similar stories to tell.
