Honoring a Year That’s Coming to an End: Gentle Ways to Make It Worth Remembering
- Rachel Bonifacio
- Nov 3
- 3 min read
As the year begins to wrap itself quietly around the edges, many of us feel a familiar tug—a mixture of nostalgia, relief, longing, or even heaviness (and sometimes, panic or dread). The final stretch of the year often stirs questions we didn’t have the time or courage to ask earlier: Did I grow? Did I change? Did this year matter?
At Lighthouse, we believe every year holds something worth honoring—not because everything that happened was good, but because everything that happened has shaped you.
The close of a year isn’t a finish line; think of it more as a transition point. It’s a moment to pause, acknowledge, integrate, and gently set the stage for whatever comes next.
Here are gentle ways to honor the year as it comes to an end—and to make it one you’ll remember with clarity, compassion, and meaning.
Acknowledge Your Emotional Landscape
Before you look back with judgment or pressure, begin with honesty.What emotions come up when you think about the year? Relief? Pride? Grief? Exhaustion? Gratitude? Let them surface without trying to “fix” them. Emotions are not verdicts; they are data. They show us what mattered, what hurt, what healed. Here's a rendition of the Emotion Wheel that we like, freely shared by Abby Vanmuijen. You may use this as reference.
Name Your Quiet Achievements
Growth doesn’t always look like milestones or photos on your camera roll. Sometimes, growth is invisible:
Walking away from something unhealthy
Learning to rest
Saying no
Asking for help
Setting boundaries
Surviving days that felt heavier than they looked
Create a list titled: “Things I did this year that no one clapped for.” You’ll be surprised at how much you carried—and how much you learned. These are wins; celebrate them.
Release What You Don’t Need to Bring Into the Next Year
Not everything deserves to come with you. Some habits, fears, or expectations served a purpose—but are no longer aligned with who you are becoming. Consider a gentle release ritual:
Write down what you’re ready to let go of.
Read it aloud.
Tear or burn the paper (safely), or simply crumple it and throw it in the trash.
Thank it for its purpose, and let it rest.
Make Space for What You Want More Of
Instead of resolutions, try invitations. Resolutions often feel rigid, rooted in pressure. Invitations create room. For example:
“I invite more peace into my mornings.”
“I invite connections that feel genuine.”
“I invite habits that honor my energy, not drain it.”
This mindset shifts you from controlling the year ahead to collaborating with it.
Reconnect With Your Community
We remember years not only through events, but through people. This one is my personal favorite: reach out to someone who shaped your year—a friend, a mentor, a colleague, a family member. Maybe someone who posted something that made an impact on you. You can say, “Thank you for being part of my year in a meaningful way,” without even having to elaborate it. Connection makes the emotional world less heavy and the joyful parts more alive. (And don't let the word community pressure you; it can be just one person from a bigger group of people.)
Look Ahead With Soft Eyes
Not a squint, but with those relaxed eyes, when you're lounging at the beach, gazing towards the horizon kind of soft eyes. Look forward. Not with expectations, not with fear—just with openness. Ask yourself:
What do I want to feel more of next year?
What do I want to protect?
What do I want to explore?
A year is not defined by accomplishments or chaos. It is defined by who you became while living through it. This means that when you honor the year, you also honor yourself—your courage, your softness, your resilience, your humanity.
And if there’s one final truth Lighthouse wants you to hold, it’s this:
You do not need a perfect year to end it with meaning.
You only need presence, reflection, and kindness toward the person you were while living it.
May the closing of this year be gentle. May the beginning of the next be hopeful. And may you remember that growth doesn’t happen in the calendar—it happens in you.
And, as usual, let me end with this:
May you have the courage you need to change the course of your life.
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