On The First Full Year Without A Loved One

Mom died in 2022. Was there joy in 2023?

Imagining a new year while still being in the old one. Photo by Walls.io on Unsplash

This past year—2023—was the first full year without Mom being a part of it because she died in July of 2022. When reflecting at the end of 2022, I thought of caregiving roles and responsibilities, Mom’s death, and moving to Scotland for my master’s program. At the end of 2023, even though I haven’t done any active caregiving roles and responsibilities for Mom, I still wonder: Did I do enough when she was alive? Could I have done more?

This year, I think about her without her actually being physically in existence.

Grief allows me to be in two places at once: the present and the past. I am my own time traveler. Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

The end of the year has always been a time of intense scrutiny and deep introspection. It is the precipice of change. As if I am about to take a breath before taking a plunge. There is so much that I have done in terms of friends and family, personal goals and university aims, travels and exploration and introspection and extroversion. However, it still seems like it’s not enough. It is bittersweet.

Mom wasn’t here. 

She wasn’t here in 2023. 

She won’t be here in 2024. 

And 2025, 2026, 2027, 2028, 2029, 2030, ad infinitum. 

Well-meaning people say she is here in spirit. That she’s here within. Which is nice. Very nice, in fact. But being here in spirit is very different from being here in flesh and blood. Sometimes I just want to watch television with Mom, or talk to her about what to have for lunch. I miss the everyday of getting groceries or talking about how pretty and full the moon is outside. 

While the new year is exciting and full of potential and joy and newness, it’s also a time of deep, profound grief.

In this new year, I strive to feel all of the feels. I will feel grief and sorrow, and I will also experience joy and excitement and curiosity. I will feel the bittersweet happiness because she will not be there with me to enjoy whatever the future happens to being. 

If you are wavering on the fine line between past and present, this year and next year, you are not alone. 

Sometimes, we have to take a giant breath, surround ourselves with loved ones and/or simply be alone, and take the plunge.

Happy New Year, everyone.

See you on the other side.

With love,

Madeline

Madeline Wahl is a postgraduate student pursuing an MLitt in Fantasy Literature at the University of Glasgow in Scotland. She is a writer, solo traveler, and millennial caregiver to her mom, who recently passed from terminal cancer. Her writing has appeared on Reader's Digest, HuffPost, Red Magazine, and McSweeney's, among others. She is working on her first novel in YA Fantasy and her first nonfiction book proposal on millennial caregiving.