A Letter to Myself as 2025 Comes to a Close

Created by AI

Dear Me (Chano),

As 2025 nears its end, you are not making resolutions or trying to become a better version of yourself, nor setting goals to prove healing. Grief has shown you that years don’t reset us; they deepen us. This year invites you to pause and ask a quieter, more honest question: What are you still carrying, and what can you gently lay down?

There will be times when the weight of grief feels heavier than usual, catching you off guard and reminding you that loss doesn’t follow a straight path. The New Year can feel especially heavy when someone you love has died. It marks the passage of time without them—a reminder of all the moments you’ll never share again. While the world celebrates fresh beginnings, your heart may feel the stark absence, blending grief with the pressure to “move on” or appear joyful. Remember this: there is nothing wrong with you. Grief returns because love remains.

You will carry forward a faith that guides rather than explains. Faith no longer needs tidy answers. It sits with questions. It breathes through tears. It leans into God’s presence more than His explanations. There will be days when regret resurfaces—quietly at first, then all at once.

You will replay conversations, search for signs, and wonder if there was something you missed in Kevin’s pain. When those thoughts come, let your faith guide you not toward self-blame, but toward compassion. Hold onto this reminder:

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18).

God does not stand at a distance from your sorrow, Chano; He meets you in it.

You will sometimes struggle with the burden of not recognizing Kevin’s suicidal thoughts. This remains one of the deepest wounds you carry. But remember this truth: you are human, not all-knowing.

You will carry forward wisdom that came too late for Kevin, but not too late to matter. You have learned more about mental illness, shame, and the hidden nature of suicidal ideation than you ever wanted to know. Mental illness can conceal itself, even from those who love deeply.

When guilt and regret rise, turn to your faith, not to dismiss the pain, but to help you process it without drowning in self-blame. Anchor yourself in grace. “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). You were never meant to carry what only God can hold.

For I know the plans I have for you,declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).

Hold onto this not as a fleeting comfort, but as a reminder that Kevin’s story, and yours, were never outside of God’s knowing or care, even when the outcome shattered your heart.

Be gentle with yourself when you remember the words you spoke to Kevin every New Year’s Day—especially the last time, on January 1, 2020: “This will be your happiest and best year.” You spoke from a place of deep love and hope, trusting that the impending relocation—bringing him closer to his sister and family—might offer comfort, connection, and a sense of belonging.

You spoke from love and hope. You wish you had talked more about peace, about rest for his weary heart, about ignoring the lies whispered by darkness, depression, and despair. But you did not know then what you know now.

Chano, there is no rewriting the past. But there is a sacred carrying forward. This truth will always feel heavy. You will carry Kevin not with guilt, but with love and wisdom. His legacy will shape how you speak, how you listen, how you love more compassionately, and how you notice those who are quietly struggling.

You need to let go of the pressure to be okay for the comfort of others. There is no timeline for grief, and faith does not require pretending.

This new year—2026—will invite you to live more intentionally. You will stop chasing happiness as something to achieve or prove. Instead, you will choose meaning, connection, and faith-rooted presence. You will hold space for joy and gratitude alongside grief and sorrow, knowing that one does not cancel the other.

You stopped pursuing happiness because grief stripped away the illusion that happiness is the goal. You now live with deeper meaning, profound connection, and intentionality.

Presence matters more.

Depth matters more.

Saying what matters, while we still can, matters more.

With God’s grace and love,

You (who made it through 2025)

Take a moment to reflect on your own journey. Step forward with intention and hope, share your thoughts or a story in the comments below.