Speaking On 2024 In An Attempt Not To Cry Pt. 1 – The Bit Not On Grief (AKA ‘Lessons and Plans, Growth and Kindness’)

It’s been one week since we returned home without Plato. This is not a blog expressing my excitement for the new year; instead, it’s more of a reflection. While initially writing this piece, I realized it needed to be split into two parts. So here you have it:

Speaking On 2024 In An Attempt Not To Cry Pt. 1 – The Part Not On Grief (AKA ‘Lessons and Plans’)

I’m not ready to publicly talk about grief; that will come in Pt. 2. For now, I just need to share my thoughts on lessons and plans, growth and kindness.

In an effort to have a more artistically focused 2024, I had been planning my first piece for some time in anticipation of the New Year. However, the past year and the sudden loss of my heart dog have taught me that plans truly don't always come to fruition, if ever.

After one of the most arduous years of my life, I had planned to ring in 2024 with a bout of joy and optimism. However, my reality was entirely different. The last day of the year began with the news that Plato hadn’t come back after his pre-bedtime pee break, and that he hadn’t been found for 12 hours, followed by the quick realization that he was more-than-likely gone.

The night before, I had been in a fit of tears and intense illness after a night out and a few drinks (I’m not a puker). All I can think is that my soul knew something I hadn’t been told yet.

The final day of 2023 was the hardest of them all.

As our friends and strangers counted down to midnight, my boyfriend and I (and family alike) sobbed, held each other, repeating “We’re going to be okay.”

A blog post that had all the intentions of being your typical “New Year, New Me” post is one I no longer feel capable of writing. I don’t want to discuss my goals, resolutions, what I want more of, what I want less of.

I’m left with a hole in my heart that nothing can fill, not even time. Plato came to me before my junior year of college – a time marked by my intense struggles with mental health. There’s no exaggeration in me saying that he saved me (more than once), and I truly would not be here without him. 

I can’t help but think that the universe said to him, “You’ve healed your mommy more than you’ll ever know; it’s your turn to rest now.”

That said, with each passing day, I regain a piece of myself, smile a little more, and reach out to one more person. No one’s heart is without holes; that’s the simple truth of a heart that has loved intensely even once.

I promised this piece was not about grief, and I’ll hold myself to that. As I sat on the plane writing this blog and in preparation of returning to my empty house, I am reminded of two lessons that I’ve thought a lot about recently:

Plans don’t pan out.

Life is unfair, and oftentimes cruel.

For fear of being chastised as a cynic, I must note that’s not my intention. The reminder is not one of misery or pessimism but simply one of those harsh truths you have to face at one point or another. 

Being forced to put misery aside for a moment, I’m made to reconcile other truths thrust directly in my face. Two things can be true at once – there is always good in the bad and bad in the good. I’m struggling, but that doesn’t mean life and this new year don’t hold wonderful things.

For all that life is good, life is bad all the same. And in these first brutal moments of 2024, I’m faced more with that reality than ever. It is both comforting and disturbing to face the truth that life doesn’t pick and choose who is dealt the good nor the bad based on a list of credentials. 

No matter the life you lead, no matter how perfectly you plan or do not, life deals your cards in a game of chance. That is not to say that everything you do is in vain. Were I (or you) to throw in the towel and say, “It simply doesn’t matter,” then anything and everything you do truly will have no meaning (this is why meaning-making is truly a powerful tool, more on that next time). 

Seeing the good come in and waiting for the bad? What a sad way to live.

In all the pain and difficulty – loss in both the literal and metaphorical – I’ve overcome in the past year (but most poignantly in recent weeks), I’ve learned that I am SO much stronger than I once was. The Izzy of five, three, even a year ago likely wouldn’t have been able to handle this type of hurt. Yet here I am, still functioning.

I’ve felt an overwhelming amount of love and support – it’s truly immeasurable and difficult to describe. Friends, family, acquaintances, and complete strangers have shown kindness that reinstills my certainty that though there is not always a silver lining, there is always good in the bad. To everyone I haven’t had the ability to respond to: your kindness does not go unnoticed.

Around each corner is uncertainty, and in the unknown is both horror and delight. And while life is unfair, there is so much reward in all the love there is to receive and give so long as you have the strength to recognize it. Kindness is a resource largely taken for granted, and in the throes of sadness, I’ve been dealt enough to remind me of all the good that life has to offer. I hope this helps remind you too.

In lieu of a true ending – because there’s no true meaning or lesson to the senselessness of how life pans out – I’ll wind down with my new resolutions, which now encompass my Plato.

Plato loved to watch and listen to me sing and play my guitar, so in 2024, I have already begun to and WILL continue to sing and play my guitar all the more.

Plato loved to be outside and in the sunshine, and so in 2024, I will stop delegating myself to sit in front of a screen all day and go out to embrace the outdoors and adventure. To appreciate all that nature has to offer.

Plato loved to run, and so in 2024, I’ve bought better running shoes, and I will start to run again.

I’ll wrap this up with my two favorite Plato (‘Tato, Puptato, Potato, the tiny philosopher) quotes:

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.”

And lastly, and that which I hold most dear to my heart:

“The madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings.”

For Plato The Puptato, My Tiniest Philosopher 

May 29, 2018 – December 30, 2023 

You will forever be my first baby and the one who made sure I made it to 25.