Disclaimer: This post discusses grief and loss and may evoke strong emotions. Please read with care and prioritize your well-being.

January 1, 2025

The new year is here, but it doesn’t feel like a fresh start. Everyone talks about hope, resolutions, and new beginnings, but for me, it feels like stepping into a year I never wanted to face—a year being left as an orphan- mama passed away almost 5 yrs ago, and papa left just a week ago.

Last night, as the clock struck midnight, I tried to join in the celebrations, but it felt hollow. How do you celebrate when your heart is broken? How do you raise a glass to a new year when all you can see is the moment your world fell apart? How do you find joy when your heart feels so heavy?

The image of my father’s last breath plays over and over in my mind. It’s like time froze in that moment, and a part of me is still there, sitting by his side, wishing for just one more second with him. And I couldn’t stop the flood of memories. I kept thinking about the last time I held his hand, kiss his head, telling him it his time to rest, the way his chest rose and fell for the final time, and the silence that followed—a silence that now feels like it’s taken up residence in my life.

It hit me all over again: this is the first year my father won’t be here, and every milestone—every birthday, holiday, or quiet moment—will feel his absence.

I felt so alone in that crowded room, surrounded by laughter and cheers. Everyone seemed so full of hope, ready to embrace the new year, and I didn’t want to bring them down. I didn’t want to be the person who dimmed their joy, so I smiled when I could and stayed quiet when I couldn’t.

Inside, though, it was like a storm was raging. Grief has a way of making you feel isolated, even in the middle of a celebration. I wanted to tell someone how much it hurt, how much I missed him in that moment, how I missed Mama too, but I held it in. It felt easier to carry the weight myself than risk becoming a shadow over their happiness.

Bye, 2024.

So, I stayed in the corner, watched the fireworks when everyone else did, while my heart felt heavier with every passing minute. It’s a strange kind of loneliness, being surrounded by people but feeling like no one truly sees what you’re going through. Maybe they don’t need to. Maybe grief is something I just have to carry quietly for now.

Grief has a way of making time feel different. The days drag on, but somehow, it’s still a blur. I want to move forward, to honor my parents memory by living the way they would have wanted, but it’s hard when every step feels like a reminder of what’s been lost.

I don’t know what this year will bring, but starting it without papa starts to feel unbearable. I hope, somehow, I’ll find a way to let the love and memories he left behind guide me through it. For now, I’ll keep going, even if it’s just one moment at a time. Maybe for now, I’ll hold on to the love they gave me and the lessons they taught me. I’ll try to find strength in the fact that they would want me to live fully, even when it feels impossible.

Happy New Year, Papa and Mama.  I hope you know how much I miss you. I hope you know I’m trying, even though it’s so hard right now. I’ll carry you into this year and every year to come.

I love you.