Out with the old, and in with the new. That's what people are saying, anyhow.
New Years Eve has never been a big deal to me. Even as a young adult, the liveliest I got was a good board game and fireworks with friends. I was always in bed shortly after midnight. It just made more sense to start the next day off without a hangover - made it easier to remember to switch calendars that way. But one thing I always had was company. It was a chance to spend time with friends. To close out the holiday season with one last toast to the good life, one last glass of egg nog.
A chance to put behind the past, and look forward to the future - be it the next day, week, month, or year - with excitement.
There's no more excitement in my house. Tomorrow brings more of the same. A monotony of uncertainty and sadness which I can't seem to shake. Days of obligation, rather than opportunity. For the first time in my life, I'll see the new year in alone. I'll fall asleep in my bed before midnight alone. I'll wake up the next day alone. And nothing will have changed.
They say the future is what you make of it. An unwritten slate, ready for your mark. Life really is the ultimate choose your own adventure story. Looking back over the year that was, it hasn't all been bad. moments of joy have punctuated the darkness. Some have been fleeting. Some have lasted a little longer. But I find solace in the fact that they are there at all, and thank Gavin as more often than not he has been my sunbeam.
I've never made huge resolutions. Mostly because I knew I wouldn't keep them. This year will be no different, but for different reasons. Why make year-long goals when a year is promised to no one? Too much can change in the blink of an eye to say you will do this or that for an entire twelve month stretch. Its not only in surviving grief that I have learned the benefits of living in the moment, but also in living life. Nothing but now is a given. This may be my last New Years. Or Gavin's. Or yours. So my promises are simple. Make Gavin a batch of cookies every weekend possible. Spend as much time as I can with him, not watching him. And to keep putting one foot in front of the other so long as I am able. And hopefully while this is happening, the light will continue to increase, and my eternal night may find moments of dawn....
More than anything, I wish Kurt could come with me into the new day, the new year. In the physical sense. His being, not his memory. But even as I still fight it with every fibre in my being, I know this is not possible. 2011 marked the first complete year that he did not see, but not the last. So I gather what I can of him, surround myself with my memories, his legacy in our son, and his love, and put one more foot forward into tomorrow, bringing him with me as best I can. That's all I can do. One step at a time completes the marathon.
I have to add that, as I typed these last few words, Gavin - who has been sitting on my lap alternating between his police car and my IPAD as I write - turned around, took off my glasses, and said "Mommy, I Love You" as he tried to wipe away the tears. We won't be happy all the time. Many more tears will fall. There's a lot more darkness before I find the light. The new may be coming, but I refuse to see the old go completely. Some things may be put behind you, but they are never really gone away....
Whatever your definition of a happy new year is, I wish that to you. It won't be perfect, but make every moment count the best that you can.... We use today as a reason to look to the future. But the present is all we have....
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