As the Holidays wind to a close, the real world begins to
reassert itself. Sparkling lights come off the houses leaving them just houses
rather than magical palaces. The shopping frenzy is behind us, but the credit
card bills are not. Trash bins are filled with sad remnants of gift wrap and
the Christmas decorations are returned to their year-round home, sometimes with
regret, often with relief.
This year, for me, relief wins. 2017 has been one of the
most difficult years of my life. A year that started with a focus on growth and
positive changes quickly gave way to a focus on cancer treatments, worry about
my children’s health and then a funeral and settling an estate. Sorrow and
worry seemed to dominate this entire year. I am deeply grateful it is over and do
not ever want a repeat.
Our Christmas was a sad, diminished affair. Dale was gone
from us forever. Dennie was still fragile from her cancer treatments. And a
third of our family stayed home with the flu. Our annual gift exchange game
lacked the joy and fun of previous years. Sometimes, I felt as though I was on
autopilot, simply going through the motions of a mom doing Christmas. Is this
what happens when grief takes hold of a family? I suspect the answer is yes.
I started 2017 with the same optimism I always bring to a
new year, serving gallons of blackeyed peas to family and friends for good luck
and making unofficial resolutions in hopes of improving my life. But in
hindsight, I don’t think the peas worked and I am not sure making resolutions
for 2018 is such a great idea. They didn’t work out all that well in this nightmare
of a year. All I want is to not repeat what we experienced in the last 12
months. My wishes are far more basic than in years before. I want good health
for all those I love. I want peace on earth and barring that unlikely event, I
want peace in my own heart. And most of all, I want my son back. The last,
sadly, cannot be and so I must content myself with finding ways to heal the
grief his loss has left behind.
Every year, the world celebrates the birth of a new year
with fireworks, libations, parties, and global celebration. The very term is
rife with hope for a fresh beginning. We make resolutions in hopes we can
change whatever did not go well in the year just passed. This year, we say, I WILL …
lose weight … exercise … stop smoking … get a new job … go back to school …
and so on and on. By February, most of us have started to slip back into old
habits and the resolutions become a thing of the past.
I am hoping for a different type of new year. First of all, I
had thought to eliminate my blackeyed peas open house in 2018. But old habits
die hard and I found that everyone was just expecting to be here tomorrow. I
guess we will try one more time to create good luck via a bowl of humble peas.
Maybe this time, the Universe will hear our prayers and they will work.
And I have resolved to make no resolutions. Rather, I plan
to change my focus on the year. I think I will, instead, try to see every day
of 2018 as a new opportunity to get life right, the start of another new year
if you will. Do you think that might fool the fates? Just as a new year spurs
us to start anew, perhaps seeing each day as a fresh start will do one major
thing for me. It will allow me to live
in the present, viewing every new morning as time I can release regrets of what
I can no longer control and instead focus on gratitude for the things large and
small that enrich my life. Perhaps that is a path to healed grief and the inner
peace I so desperately crave.