Who hasn’t noticed that life sometimes brings us its share of uninvited disappointments – some trivial, some truly profound? And haven’t all of us learned that in abundance this year as the coronavirus pandemic has dashed so many of our dreams? Julia Richardson thinks so, and she shares the lessons she has learned along the way.
Julia Richardson comes to us from South Kingstown, RI, where she works as a writer and web project manager.
When I was in Kindergarten, my class had big plans for a Thanksgiving party the Wednesday before the holiday. All week in school we prepared by making decorations and costumes, construction paper, feathers, glitter glue, popcorn. Anticipation was high, and I talked excitedly about it at home for days leading up.
Wednesday morning, the family woke up to a foot of snow on the ground with no sign of abatement. No snow day had been called, but living farther away from school than other students, on a hill that rarely saw a plow before noon, my parents had a choice. My mom told me gently, with a cupcake to soften the blow, that we were going to stay home that day.
My young mind wrestled with all the factors at play, seeking something we haven’t thought about yet. What if we all helped out with shoveling and got to school late? Well, what if the teacher postponed the party? Could my mom call? No, we can’t ask others to make exceptions on our behalf. This feeling was unfamiliar to me, something I anticipated had vanished, and we just had to accept the outcome. There were no avenues around it, the fact of the situation showed up no matter what objection I could make.
As I regretted the fun should’ve happened that day, I tried to cheer up with the other possibilities, after all, snow days were fun. It wasn’t the same, but it could also be okay.
Disappointment is a natural and valuable feeling, it has a unique sting that takes our breath way, in its swiftness and unexpectedness, but it illustrates what matters to us in loss. No one has been a stranger to disappointment since the Coronavirus outbreak, which makes the loss of the holidays this year even more punishing. Like that ill-timed snow day, I thought around it as many ways I could, but cannot deny the only good recommendation is to stay with my own household. In retrospect, this loss is only a year, and hopeful times lie ahead. Still, I miss my family, I am lonely, and each fresh disappointment and cancelled gathering does not hurt any less than the one before. But I can also do my best to find a way to make this year okay, and hope to hold on to my loved ones a little tighter and with a little more gratitude next year.
