Reflections on Entering My Seventh New Year as a Widow vs. My First 🤯

I've been reflecting on my very first New Years without my Brian. I found some words I wrote my first NYE as a widow - as I prepared to leave the last year (and decade!) that Brian was alive for, behind. 

I thought I would share these words with you today - and then a little bit about how I felt this time around - an unbelievable seven years later.

December 31st, 2019:

One year ago tonight, Bri had the “flu.”

We cancelled our New Year’s party and he stayed in bed. Bri was never sick, so this was strange.

Our daughter D and I went up to my sister’s place to celebrate New Year’s eve with her and her husband. Around ten, Bri got out of bed and drove to pick us up.

He wasn’t feeling well enough to come up to get us so, he texted me instead. I’ll never forget what he wrote:

“Hey honey. I’m here. Come on down. Party tunes in the car!”

We got home that night and he went straight back to bed while I put D down.

Just before midnight, I crept in beside him. We held each other and kissed and said, “Happy New Year” and “I love you”. Our bodies still fit perfectly together that night for one of the last times before the pain made cuddling impossible.

Is it only when I look back now that I feel the strangeness in the air that night? The smell of death and change and destruction and transformation seems so obvious now. But looking back, already, he was changing.

2019 unfolded with terror and fear, pain and loss, separation and love beyond love. I miss him in every possible way a person can miss another. And I am in no way the Mira who crept into bed with her Bri one year ago this evening.

Tonight, D and I danced to Bruce Springsteen (her current rock obsession), we had a pizza and popcorn party, and we watched the clock tick endlessly forward (because her other obsession right now is clocks and she asks what time it is every half hour).

The past decade holds Mira and Brian lovingly in her arms. And now, she’s gracefully letting us go. I met my Bri and I lost my Bri within her achingly beautiful ten years. We made a baby and we saw each other as parents and as mates in all the possible ways. We endured the most painful of separations. We learned that sometimes all you can do, is let go.

I don’t want to let go. I want to kick and scream my way into this new decade, which somehow has the audacity to dawn without Bri in it. I hate that I must continue on. And I am honoured to have the privilege to do so. Life is a gift. I have seen that now.

Good bye 2019. Good bye 2010’s.

What’s next?

***

I sit here re-reading these words now - as 2025 becomes 2026 - and my heart breaks all over again. It's still all so real. It still resonates. 

Because you see, that woman who wrote them, she is within me. She is me. 

And also...I feel so different from her. It's somehow both things at the same time. 

Reading these words also reminds how far I have come, and more importantly - how hard I have worked to get to where I am. 

As time moves on, I have learned over & over again that I move at a slower pace than others. I love deep and I feel deep and I grieve deep. That's just me. (And maybe, many of you too!? Perhaps why you've been drawn to my work...)

But friends - I have to say...this New Years was FUN(!) Like, really fun.

I can't explain or pinpoint what specifically changed, because I still miss Brian so much. If I sit and actually ask myself if I'd rather he were here, obviously the answer is 100% yes. This New Years I still had my grief-y moments and my big feelings. I just felt so much happiness alongside them. 

Lately, I'm working harder than ever to feel completely safe in my body. I'm endeavouring to open myself up to feeling every single emotion that comes up - without shutting down or distracting.

For many years in grief, I couldn't do that. The emotions were too big - I had to rationalize them, put them into words, shove them aside, compartmentalize, etc. 

But now that my capacity has increased (thanks to a combo of so much nervous system work and talking it through over & over again) - I find myself able to pause and feel whatever is coming up - until is passes, which it always does when it's just allowed to be felt. 

Side note: A big part of this is just the reality of now having an older kid, who is more independent - something I didn't have the time for at all earlier in my grief. (So part of it is purely logistical - and this is very real.) 

2025 was a hard year for me. I bought my first house (on my own) & did a big reno project & moved & built/opened up my Community & changed so much about my business. I had a lot of realizations & shifts in friendships, relationships, and business connections. 

But I'm entering 2026 feeling hopeful! More hopeful than I have felt in many, many years. 

Sending out so much love, wherever and however these words find you today. 

ps: If you would like to explore working together 1:1, I have a few openings in my little private practice. If you might be interested in deeper support & connection, fill out my 1:1 application form HERE.