I'm mourning the end of a year that brought me more sadness than joy. The part of me that finds it easier to be selfish would say it wasn't that bad, that I had happy times, that I had love and friendship, a home, many beautiful moments and lessons. But the part of me that has always felt other people's pain would break for those who had it really tough- maybe they lost someone, or lost their freedom, or couldn't have proper meals or a roof over their head.
The positive thing to do would be to hope that the next year is better and happier. But it will come with uncertainties, of which I don't have to worry about for this year anymore. But this certainty will be lost as soon as the clock strikes 12, and December 31 becomes January 1.
I wish I could stop the clock, freeze time, but my certainties were another's uncertainties too. Maybe they are waiting for the clock to strike 12 so that they can start afresh, build hope, and welcome new opportunities.
So I mourn this end, but I will try to welcome the beginning.
Farewell 2021.