Rettke: Hindsight really is 2020. Let’s bring that into 2021

I was FaceTiming with my parents on New Year’s Eve while doing the dishes. This is something I’ve grown accustomed to as not only a way to incentivize me to keep a clean house while I’m working from home (I am lazy by nature), but also as a way to carve out some time to spend virtually with my family since I haven’t seen them in a year.

We were reflecting a bit on 2020 and seemed to settle on a renewed hope that most of us, I’m sure, are feeling too. That’s the COVID-19 vaccine and all that it promises to restore for us in 2021.

I try not to be too cynical, but I’m the person who tries to keep hopes low so that whatever the outcome I’m not disappointed. But, man, am I looking forward to hugging my mother and fishing with my dad, even if I have to camp outside of their house when the weather warms.

The vaccine rollout as we know is likely to be slow-moving, and although the potential light at the end of the tunnel is tempting, we need to take a breath and have patience. Priority groups are in place for a reason.

That type of hope we’re feeling now is something I encourage you all to cling to in the coming months as we look to the future.

Trauma can be a powerful tool for reprioritizing the things in life that really “matter.” And although I realize what “matters” is relative, one thing I’ll take away from the horrid year that was 2020 is that sometimes what I viewed as small things – regular weekly or daily calls with my family, sending an actual letter in the mail to a friend, cooking a nice meal, reading a book in front of the fireplace instead of going out – can be enough.

Also, when I do have that longed-for in-person hug with my parents, I will cherish it all the more, in a way I never could before.

In many ways, Jan. 1 is just another day. It’s been a sad holiday season for so many of you – for those with empty seats at the table, those with financial burdens or those navigating a profound sense of loss and community grief that, if you’re like me, comes in waves.

As a journalist, normally I would say it’s tough to not become desensitized when you’ve been writing about such heavy topics daily all year. But grief isn’t proprietary anymore – it belongs to all of us, and the days, months and year ahead will force us to find ways to heal and accept that.

If you’re reading this, you’ve made it this far. You’ve made it into 2021, and however you feel, whatever state of being you’re in, you made it. I’m commiserating and, if you want, celebrating with you. So many didn’t get the chance to see 2021 – in fact, 78 people in DeKalb County as of Dec. 31 died because of COVID-19. And thousands more across the country.

I think if 2020 has taught me a singular thing, it’s that we don’t know what will come next. We can plan and create goals and expectations, and then all that can be pulled away from us by forces beyond our control. I hope that in the coming year we can all lean in on the knowledge that what we’ve endured over the past year can’t last forever.

Here’s to tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.