Throughout the months since last March, I’ve worked on moving forward as best I can. I’ve walked a lot of miles, played a lot of games, taken up a new hobby, started working towards a new profession, and generally continued to remind myself how fortunate we are, all things considered, and how, really, this has been such a helpful kick in the right direction. But by keeping up that optimism and stiff upper lip, what I’ve failed to do is grieve. 

On the (many) days I’ve found myself unable to stay motivated—the days I’ve just wanted to nap or to loose myself in a video game or a podcast and my latest crocheting project—I’ve reminded myself that it’s fine. We’re all living in a place of uncertainty and turmoil. 2020 was about surviving not achieving. I’ve tried to distract myself, look on the bright side, get through the rough days in the hopes of a brighter, more energetic tomorrow. After all, I was a little worn out as a tour guide, right? I knew I didn’t want to do that full-time forever. I was curious about the work-at-home world and had been dragging my feet about wading in because I already had a job. A job I enjoyed, but which took a lot out of me. I no longer needed to spend my days “on” among crowds or my nights telling ghost stories rather than curled up cozy on my couch with my cat. No more weekends with no time for board games and waffles. No more July days spent boiling in full Colonial kit on the streets of Boston. 

But I did love it.

I came into my own as a tour guide. I found my voice and a confidence I didn’t have anywhere else. I made some dear friends, and fell in love both with a city and my fiancé. I honed my story-telling, learned to be a teacher, met some amazing people, and was privileged to bring alive a crucial moment in this country’s history for many people excited to learn. 

There may be more yet to come. With the year so uncertain, it is unlikely we’ll move before next year, and while we’re still here, if it is safe, it makes sense to take available work. But with a new goal in mind, and the pandemic still moving towards an uncertain end (will we be able to find vaccine doses before the end of the summer? If so, will there even be people looking for tours?), it is likely that without knowing it I’ve already had many lasts as a tour guide. And maybe it is better that way in the long run. To ease out instead of having a dramatic ending. But whatever way I look at it, however many tours may be left to me in the coming season, a substantial chapter of my life is coming to a close. 

Along with that more personal grief of losing and moving on from a vocation, there are many wider-felt griefs. Many, like me, have lost the freedom and autonomy of our incomes, and most have lost the freedom of movement. The simple freedom to choose to go to a shop or a restaurant, to plan a trip, go to a movie, go to the grocery store, or to invite friends over for dinner without having to plan and worry, and ultimately think better of the idea altogether. And even while I exercise the freedom to walk the same four-mile loop each day, I notice all the shuttered windows in the once-familiar Harvard Square. Things were already changing before all this started, but now, almost all of the beloved staples are gone. No matter what things look like on the other side of this, everything that used to be familiar has passed without most of us having a chance to say a proper goodbye. 

Much as I like to look on the bright side, I have to remind myself that it is ok to feel sad. It is ok to grieve a version of myself, a time, a place, that is gone. It’s ok to feel it, to mourn it, to be thankful for what we have but to still wish things were different.

We have been beyond fortunate to not be sick—to have not suffered the devastating loss of a loved one—to have not been hungry or cold, discriminated against or at risk of eviction. But lucky as we may be, we have all still suffered loss worth grieving during these last twelve months.  

Whatever your losses have been, however large or small, I wish you the time to feel them, comfort as you do, and the hope of a better year to come.