…… to not be sad.
Is that possible? I used to think, “Of course it is!”
You know …… back in my “before”.
I had no idea that sometimes …… you just can’t choose.
Until I couldn’t.
It seemed to last forever …… the days that I couldn’t choose.
It felt like forever.
A long, dark, cold forever.
But gradually the days became lighter and warmer and I found that I could decide.
Sometimes turned into most times and most times is where I reside now.
I am able to choose to not be sad.
Which brings me to today.
New Year’s Eve.
I’ve hated New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day for ten years.
For me, it’s worse than the dreaded Valentine’s Day that widowed people abhor so much.
It’s an evening/day when you can feel like such a loser because you’re alone.
It’s an evening/day when loneliness feels magnified.
And trust me …… something as sucky as loneliness shouldn’t be magnified.
Christmas was great.
The apartment was full …… of people and noise.
Lots and lots of noise.
But like every year, my children have returned to their homes and their lives.
As they should.
The silence is deafening.
On this night.
I know that for many people, the silence and loneliness on Christmas is worse.
And I know that I’m blessed each year to have most of my children with me for that week.
So I try to be mindful of that.
This year feels no different.
It’s New Year’s Eve and it’s quiet.
And a bit lonely.
I still hate it.
I wish he were here.
In spite of all that, I’m choosing to not be sad.
I’m choosing to be thankful.
Thankful for my children.
And their children.
Thankful for the love in my life.
For the friendships and the family.
Thankful that even though he’s not here …… he was.
But most of all …… I’m thankful that I can choose to not be sad.
Most of the time.
New Year’s Eve 2006 — our last one