My reflection on 2024

 

What a year it has been. It started with travel planning—Khaled and I, for the first time, spent a good amount of time organizing, researching activities, booking accommodations, and finding flights. Time flew as we enjoyed the process together.

We had an incredible time in Bali and Java, though there were challenges in making the trip more accessible for Khaled. Despite moments of frustration and difficulty, we had fun, made discoveries, and shared unforgettable experiences. For the first time, we witnessed lava at Mount Merapi—a highlight of the trip. When we returned, Khaled joked, "Why didn’t you just leave me not knowing how cool traveling is? Now all I want to do is travel!" In my mind, I thought, yes! Mission accomplished. He even said, “Now I can relate to your feelings and why you love it so much.”

Returning at the beginning of Ramadan, I spent two days with family before heading home, missing my dogs terribly. There were many cuddles and lots of love, but on March 20th, still during Ramadan, I faced heartbreak. During our morning walk, two of my dogs, Little Boy and Brownie, were poisoned. Little Boy was placed in an induced coma for 48 hours in an attempt to cleanse his system, but on March 22nd at 9:00 a.m., I received the call—he had given up.

Little Boy shattered my heart, like all the poisoned dogs I’ve lost. But with him, the bond was uniquely special, making the pain even more profound.

Loss continued to shadow me. On May 25th, Bella could no longer endure her pain. I had to make the difficult decision to let her go. Saying goodbye to yet another beloved companion was excruciating. Grief felt endless, piling higher and higher.

In July, I suffered another devastating loss. Shahy, one of the closest people to my heart, passed away. I rushed to Cairo when I learned she was in intensive care. We had just shared a long phone call where she told me about her diagnosis—the cancer had spread to her bones and brain. She said, “I don’t fear death, but I wish I had more time with my daughters—just until they finish college.” That wish would not come true. Holding her hand for the last time, I knew she was already gone.

This year, loss has been my greatest teacher. With each grief-filled moment, the understanding that nothing really matters became more ingrained in my subconscious. The certainty of life is fleeting—the only truth is the present moment. Lesson learned.

Yet, 2024 was also a year of growth and resilience. I said “no” more often than “yes.” I achieved personal and professional milestones. I allowed myself to rest, to slow down, and to nurture my heart.

One significant accomplishment was in my work with street dogs in Hurghada. We reached an agreement to use a scientific approach to managing the dog population—no more strychnine. Educating the community was part of my learning process. Facing the person responsible for poisoning my dogs, setting aside my personal feelings, and working toward the greater good was incredibly challenging, but I managed to do it.

This year has deepened my resilience and reinforced the truth that nothing is in our control. The only power we have lies in acceptance, letting go, and moving forward. These are the only certainties in life.

2024 was a rollercoaster, but I’m grateful for its lessons. I’m thankful to still feel the fire in my soul, driving me to continue what I’ve started—to live, love, and enjoy; to let go and smile; to forgive; to understand others and give them grace.

There are 24 hours left in this year, and I ask you, 2024, to be kind on your last day.