Greetings Dear Community,

I’ve been thinking about anniversaries.

Mostly because, when Sarah asked me to contribute some thoughts for this month’s letter, she noted that it would coincide with the anniversary of George Floyd’s murder.

But also, because my family has been in the process of scheduling my grandmother’s homegoing, which was postponed last April (like so many things) because of the pandemic.

When my grandmother passed, none of us were able to be in the room with her because nursing homes weren’t allowing visitors at the time. Outside of my mom and my aunt, my husband and I were the last people to hold my grandmother’s hand, to kiss her cheek, to whisper “I love you” into her ear.

I will never forget the last time I saw her.

Anniversaries are reminders.

Of people, of moments that matter to us.

They provide us with an opportunity to reflect, to remember, to commemorate; to mourn and to celebrate.

Anniversaries are also markers.

They are moments to move forward from.

The night before the one-year anniversary of my grandmother’s passing, I dreamed that she and I were locked in an embrace (she gave the best hugs). I woke up weeping, sad and angry, missing her. I called my mother, which is usually what I do when I’m sad and angry, and she said something I’ve thought about almost every day since.

“You can’t stay in the moment.

You can continue to grieve, that’s fine, but you can’t stay.

You’ve got to release the anger and bitterness because that doesn’t help you to move on.

Bitterness stops your progress.

You die at that point.

You no longer grow.

You are not dead.

You are alive so you have to move.

You don’t have to forget.

You should never forget, but you do have to move.”

This has been a time of great loss.

Of grief and despair.

But it has also been a time of tribute and protest.

Of reckoning and reform.

And of change.

It has been, in spite of great hardship, a time of great movement.

We are not as far along as we would like to be, but we are not where we were a year ago.

Which brings me back to anniversaries.

About how they are reminders.

Of people, of moments that matter to us.

About how they are markers.

Of endings, but also of beginnings.

And about how they can inspire movement.

Movements.

Change.

I’ve been thinking about how every day is an anniversary for someone somewhere.

Knowing that makes me want to try and move through the world with a little more patience, a little more compassion and a little more grace.

Toward myself and toward others.

I’m setting that as an intention.

A year from now, on the anniversary of today, I hope to celebrate my progress with all of you.

That, I believe, would make my grandmother proud.

With abiding love,

Harrison