Year of Firsts
It’s strange to think that one year ago we had no idea that a global “year of firsts” was upon us.
The first time wearing a mask in a store
The first day working remotely
The first holiday without a big family celebration
The first New Years in (that may become a new tradition)
The first birthday parade…but certainly not the last
The first day putting jeans on in God knows when
For many, the first day of unemployment
The list goes on and on. I certainly didn’t know it at the time, but as I reflect, what’s impacted me the most is probably less common: the first day without a commute.
It was ironically Friday the 13th (of March) when I enjoyed my last glorious 1.5 mile walk to work. I don’t recall the exact details, but if I were writing this then, “enjoyed” would certainly not be the word I used. I was stressed. In fact, that walk was probably the only thing getting me through the day. Fresh air. 30 minutes to clear my head. And my favorite, a call with my mom.
For the last 20 years I have talked with my mom on nearly every commute I’ve had. Walking to and from classes in college, walking to the train, escalator rides up to my office, cab rides to the airport, and my last “official” commute, a nice long walk.
Our daily calls ranged from a few minutes to me doing an extra lap (or two) around the block. Monday chats were typically longer as we caught up on the weekend and upcoming plans. It was my favorite start to the week.
March 16, 2020 was not a typical Monday. I woke up quite foggy after a whirlwind of a weekend which included an almost complete company shut-down. I got up, sluggishly walked down the long dark hallway from my bedroom to my home office and got to work. No commute. No call to mom. My first “new first.”
Little did I know that the following week would begin a more commonly known “year of firsts.” My mother passed away on March 24, 2020, just 5 days after we received the dreaded news that the cancer had returned. It’s as though she knew my commuting days were over.
I went back to work that following week. That long dark hallway quickly became a dreaded journey. There was no such thing as “easing into the day.” The day just began. What used to bring me so much joy now brought so much pain. The underlying grief was too overwhelming for me to see that though.
Instead, what I thought I needed was an office update. New furniture, a new vibe. Yes! And I needed to turn the lights on in the hallway before making the trek to the office. Give it a boost of “sunshine.” I needed a new morning routine, podcasts vs. network news. Of course, it was the media who was making me feel so awful every morning. And a gratitude journal. I knew starting the day with what I was thankful for would set the right tone.
With all these changes in place, I couldn’t understand why something still felt so off. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when I uncovered what was truly missing. My commute with mom. A huge weight was lifted the second I said it out loud. It was so obvious, yet so hidden.
I now enjoy a walk nearly every morning before “officially” starting my day. It’s my way of honoring the beautiful tradition my mom and I started so long ago.
We all know that grief does not stop when the “year of firsts” concludes. I know 2021 is still going to be hard – from a pandemic perspective and for me, a second year without my mom. I will continue to dig deep though and find joy. In fact, a year ago, I would have never thought that me, a non-writer, would get so much joy writing and sharing my stories. I guess there really is a first time for everything.
