An ending and a beginning.
Some thoughts around the new year.
I found out yesterday that an old colleague and friend passed away last week. It was sudden and unexpected and the news caught me by surprise.
Of course, as is the usual way of things, I’d planned to message her and arrange a catch up, but hadn’t gotten around to it. There always seems to be time to do these things until suddenly… there’s not.
It’s so heartbreaking that her death has come at Christmas, at the turn of the year, when she should be celebrating with her husband and her daughter. It throws into stark relief the time marching past, unslowable, unstoppable, unrelenting.
We’re at the start of another year already. Time moves faster and faster the older I get. I’m acutely (painfully) aware of how quickly things are changing watching my tiny baby stand up for the first time on his fat little legs. I’m watching him change every day and the little baby he once was is gone forever.
Being back in Melbourne, too, has me feeling nostalgic. We pass by old houses we once lived in, old parks we’d play in, the streets I’d roam as a child and the ones I’d walk or bike as an adult. It’s hard to reconcile that I’ll never go back to those times. They’re gone forever, existing only in memory.
New Year’s Eve always feels a little bittersweet. Saying goodbye to such a happy year, the year that I became a mother, and looking towards the next. I’m confident next year will hold just as many joys and delights as this one, and no doubt hard times and sadness as well. But no matter how happy next year is, the one that’s coming to a close will never happen again.
I feel like I always approach these end of year/start of year posts full of plans and resolutions. This year, I’m going to wander into the new year with nothing but an appreciation for the time that’s passed and the time I still have.
Here’s a portrait I did of Christine, my old colleague and friend who passed away, which sums up her funny and vibrant personality. She’ll be in my thoughts as we ring in 2025.
