My Dearest 2020,
Your timing was impeccable and I’m eternally indebted to you for it.
It was early March. Easter was on the horizon and I was figuring out how to avoid celebrating this upcoming holiday with my family. Anxiety and depression were setting in.
You see, my Dearest 2020, in late 2019, I made the difficult and painful decision to distance myself from my brother and his wife for the harm they had brought into my life. It was an unpopular decision in the family, but it was necessary for me. Even with the certainty that I’d have to forgo Easter celebrations with family, my anxiety and depression dug themselves in more deeply.
You were, my Dearest 2020, a litmus test for my decision to prioritize my healing and recovery.
Then out of the cosmic blue, my Dearest 2020, you swooped in like a watchful angel from above and fixed everything for me. I felt alone in the world, unsupported in my decision, until you sprinkled a Covid-19 spell on the world and halted global activity. Pandemonium and lockdowns ensued.
Just like that, my family and I could no longer discuss arrangements for getting together on Easter Sunday. Now, it was irrelevant. We weren’t allowed to hold private social gatherings due to government restrictions meant to control the spread of the Covid-19 virus. Just like that, you took care of everything for me like a cosmic intervention.
My Dearest 2020, I’m aware of my controversial attitude on this subject. (Not everyone is grateful for your presence.) I’ve written publicly about my gratitude for 2020 and loudly expressed my excitement with friends and co-workers: Covid-19 couldn't have visited in a personally more convenient year. If I’m being open and honest, as I am in intimate letters, it felt like you were on my side this year despite your ugly outward appearances.
You afforded me a unique opportunity to grieve the loss of my relationship with my brother and to begin to heal the wounds. My Dearest 2020, you gave me the precious gift of time, enabling me to process and recover on my terms: slow, reflective, and judicious.
Covid-19 restrictions were greatly liberating for me. They kept me in the sanctuary of my home where I could be still, cry, and work things out inside without pressure from the outside world to hurry, forgive, and move on. While the world beyond the safety of my home was frenzied and frantic, my internal journey was untouched by any of it. 2020 lockdowns were like a warm blanket under which I felt comfortable and safe.
My Dearest 2020, you saved me the stress of explanations, declines, and excuses and I wonder how many others like me you quietly rescued, so that we could redirect our attention to what really matters. I didn’t have to utter a word to anyone, except to myself in the form of gentleness and patience. You took care of everything extraneous so that I wouldn’t have to.
You will always be a rare gift of real, pure time — unhurried and untarnished — in a world where time always seems dictated to us by others.
With that, my Dear 2020, I have nothing more to say to you. You’re welcome to carry on into 2021 for as long as you consider necessary. I’m not in a rush to see you go, nor do I wish to pretend to manipulate the kind of time you generously bestowed on me. If your lesson to us was the real meaning of time, who am I to tell you to end it especially when it concerns human healing?
With much trust and gratitude,
Fabiola
