As the end of the year approaches, I’ve noticed a common theme across memes–one that has been happening annually for the last few years. It is some variation of a joke about how foolish it is to believe that the new year will be better than the last (Queue up A Long December by the Counting Crows if you want the full immersive experience).
While equal parts depressing and funny, I find the timing of the memes to be off. By my estimation, 2016 was the year that our common human experience began to degrade. A singular event in that year changed the trajectory of all our futures. It caused a disturbance in our known reality, shifting the course of all things and setting us on a path of destruction, not only repeated each year, but also increasing in calamity. I am, of course, speaking of Emily’s death.
The absence of the weight of Emily’s kindness has thrown the earth off its axis. This shift, imperceptible as it was to most, was just enough of an adjustment that chaos has ensued. In the grand scheme of existence, just the flap of a butterfly wing, but it has caused a ripple that has grown into a swell and expanded into a tsunami of suffering that has washed over the earth. Climate change? Lack of Emily. Wild fires? Lack of Emily. Covid? Lack of Emily. Ted Cruz? Lack of Emily. Rising gas price? Lack of Emily. That time I broke my foot? Lack of Emily.
Alright. Perhaps I’m being a little dramatic.
The truth is that existence has always been chaos. Before Emily, with Emily and after Emily. But, what has always made the chaos seem manageable has been those times in life when we have the good fortune of experiencing someone else’s kindness. Each of those acts, big or small, is a vacation from the madness. The most miniscule of charities hits pause on the cataclysm for the briefest of moments and lets you catch your breath before the next wave crashes.
Emily exuded kindness. She was an endless fount of selflessness, forever thinking of others. Others meaning everyone, not just friends and family, or those who looked and believed like her. Everyone. She was a sun of kindness, shining her light equally on all. Being in proximity to that radiance made me feel as though the chaos had ended. I was so buffered by her kindness that the tragedy of existence disappeared. When her star burned out, though, so did my shield, which has made the chaos of the last 6 years seem so much stronger, even if it is the same chaos existence has always floated in.
Today, on Emily’s 37th birthday, as a gift to her, I’m wondering if you might try to be that light for someone else. In the midst of the chaos, perhaps you can find the time and strength to be the kindness someone else needs today. And if you can do it today, then maybe again tomorrow. And if it works the last two days of this year, then maybe you can try to do it more next year. And if we all do it next year, then perhaps things will change. The chaos will still be there, but perhaps our kindness will shine a little brighter than the darkness.
It’s chaos. Be kind.
Happy birthday, Emily. Thank you for the light, which still warms me every day.
emily and bret 
Happy Heavenly Birthday Emily. You are missed.