The year everything changed.
2025 was a terrible year for me.
I caught COVID-19 in the fall of 2024 and was still suffering from exhaustion, brain fog, dizziness, and an aching body.
I worked as a college instructor and returned for the winter term at the beginning of January. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it work because I was so exhausted. If I'm being completely honest, there were many days when I was working from home that I had to take an afternoon nap just to make it through the day.
The main thing I was dreading was turning sixty in February. I'd never had a problem with birthdays before, but for some reason the thought of turning sixty filled me with dread. Maybe it was because I felt like I was heading into the last season of my life.
Two weeks before my birthday, I was called into a last-minute Zoom meeting with my managers. I knew something was wrong when I saw the Human Resources manager, my direct supervisor, and a man I didn't recognize. Turns out I was right. The federal government had made changes to immigration policy, which meant we no longer had enough students to run the program. My contract would not be renewed when it ended in October.
Just like that, my plan to keep working there until retirement flew out the window.
Two weeks later, on my sixtieth birthday, all I wanted to do was stay in bed and wallow in my sadness.
March was fairly uneventful. My brother-in-law had surgery to remove a tumour from his colon. Thankfully, the surgery went well, and it seemed like things were beginning to settle down.
Three weeks later, in April, I got a call that my sister was in the hospital and no one was sure what was happening.
Eight days later, she was gone.
My beautiful sister, who was so full of life and the one person I could talk to about anything, had died. I had lost my one and only confidant.
In May, just two weeks after she passed, I saw an advertisement for a townhome rental in a town I had wanted to move to for years. The timing couldn't have been worse, but I knew that if I was ever going to do it, this was my chance.
Two weeks later, I had moved.
It was the fastest move I'd ever made, and I did much of it on my own. By then, I was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and physically.
In June, I bought a car because I knew it would probably be difficult to get a loan once I lost my job. It was a big financial commitment when I had no idea what my income would look like six months later.
At the end of June, we held my sister's celebration of life. I barely shed a tear. I wasn't sure whether the reality of losing her had fully sunk in.
By July, I had reached my breaking point.
I went on sick leave, and that leave lasted until the end of my contract. I simply had nothing left to give.
Looking back at everything that happened that year, I think most people would agree it was a year I'd never want to repeat.
Or was it?
What if I looked at those same events from a different perspective?
Yes, I started the year with Long COVID, but I also had a job that offered enough flexibility for me to rest when I needed to.
At the end of December, I had my sisters over for a lovely lunch. We visited, laughed, and celebrated the holidays together. I didn't know then that it would be our last Christmas together.
In February, my sister came for a sleepover. We stayed up talking for hours and promised each other that we would leave nothing unsaid.
I will never forget that night.
How grateful I am that I made it to sixty—mostly healthy and looking forward to a new season of life. My sisters took me out for dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the city. It was a beautiful evening that I will always treasure.
When my sister passed in April, I had the privilege of helping her through her final hours. I held her hand and told her how deeply she was loved for hours. I was with her when she took her last breath, and I knew she had passed peacefully. I was also able to be there for my brother-in-law, and together we found comfort in knowing she was no longer suffering.
In May, I moved into a beautiful townhome in a community I'd wanted to call home for a long time. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't have time to second-guess myself. Somehow, I just knew it would all work out.
At my sister's celebration of life in June, I was able to stay composed and step in to help my brother-in-law finish the eulogy when he couldn't continue.
In July, I was given something I desperately needed: time. I didn't have to worry about work. My only job was to heal and enjoy the summer. I even adopted two cats, giving both myself and my other cat a little more companionship.
When my contract ended in October, Employment Insurance helped me through the months that followed. My brother-in-law also gave me some financial support, reminding me that I wasn't facing everything alone.
The year ended peacefully.
I couldn't put up a Christmas tree because of the cats, so instead I hung my ornaments from the ceiling. My living room looked magical.
When I think back on 2025 now, I don't just remember illness, loss, uncertainty, and change.
I remember conversations that mattered.
I remember love.
I remember showing up for the people I loved and allowing others to show up for me.
I remember courage I didn't know I had.
It was a year filled with heartbreak...
but it was also a year filled with grace.
A thought to take with you
When you look back at a difficult season in your own life, what else do you see alongside the things that hurt?
Were there moments of love, kindness or strength that you couldn't see clearly at the time?
Something come to mind?
If you'd like to share it, I'd love to hear what this story made you think about.