09
2009. Time hasn't stopped. Change is in the air. The countdown to a New Year, a hopeful and promising future. Resolutions made, kisses and cheers and the clink of glasses. Newness. Optimism. Opportunity.
And I want none of it.
I don't want the change. I don't want to feel further away from you. I want to stand still and hug the past. I want you to be yesterday, not last year. I want you to be here always. Always. I want you to plan things and smile. I want you to be with us. You left us in 2008 and here it is... a different digit. A tiny little insignificant number. It should mean nothing. And yet, here I am wanting to scream at the world to stop and just hold on a minute. Let me get this right in my head. Let me just claw at the past for a little while longer. Before it turns again and the past is so much further away.
This visceral reaction. The Dark Guest is here. But invited this time. I asked for it, I know it now. It wasn't something I said out loud. But I stayed home with my boys, alone. I knew it would be just me here. Aaron doesn't get this New Year's stuff. He bitches about the cheesy show and Ryan Seacrest. Whatever. It meant so much more to me and it went right over his head.
But who am I to complain? He's here. And it makes no sense to me at all right now that Patrick isn't clinking glasses and kissing Lierin. It makes zero sense to me that in ten months he won't be getting married to the greatest woman he's known (okay, except you Kate).
This is hard. New Year's changed it meaning to me when I was a kid. My earliest memories are of staying home with my dad and Pat. We would watch Dick Clark, drink sparkling apple cider and countdown the New Year together. We'd call Grandma at work at midnight. Kathy would call, Jim would call, Lisa would call and Mike would call. The damn phone rang for an hour.
I spent many, many New Year's Eves that way. Pat. Always Pat. Sometimes a friend of mine would sleep over and we would try to keep him out of my room, but eventually we'd cave. And there we would be: in front of the television, counting down. Bubbly cider in our hands, noise makers and gazoos.
And then it happened. Jimbo died. My neighbor, my other big brother. He was 21 years old and he went out and had a great New Year's. He went home safely and his chimney caught fire. I was 11. And every New Year's since I've toasted his memory. I've toasted the memory of how things were before he died. How my brother was. How his family was. New Year's was never about what was to be, it was always about what used to be. I'm okay with that. I actually prefer it. I think that you can't say hello to something new without saying goodbye to something that was.
And this year? I'm not feeling any of it. To be perfectly honest, the Dark Guest has been here for a few days and I'm just beat down tonight.
I wanted to come on here and write something about how this would be a moment to remember. To finally embrace the newness, to take it on and challenge myself to be better, to do more. But you know what I'm going to do?
Not a God damn thing.
I'm going to simplify. I'm going to take it one day at a time and live. I'm going to let it all go and let the moment lead me. No plans this year. No promises. No day but today and all that jazz (can you name the musicals?).
Yep. I'm just gonna live it.
I'm going to Breathe. Right Kate?
One breath at a time... because I can.
And I want none of it.
I don't want the change. I don't want to feel further away from you. I want to stand still and hug the past. I want you to be yesterday, not last year. I want you to be here always. Always. I want you to plan things and smile. I want you to be with us. You left us in 2008 and here it is... a different digit. A tiny little insignificant number. It should mean nothing. And yet, here I am wanting to scream at the world to stop and just hold on a minute. Let me get this right in my head. Let me just claw at the past for a little while longer. Before it turns again and the past is so much further away.
This visceral reaction. The Dark Guest is here. But invited this time. I asked for it, I know it now. It wasn't something I said out loud. But I stayed home with my boys, alone. I knew it would be just me here. Aaron doesn't get this New Year's stuff. He bitches about the cheesy show and Ryan Seacrest. Whatever. It meant so much more to me and it went right over his head.
But who am I to complain? He's here. And it makes no sense to me at all right now that Patrick isn't clinking glasses and kissing Lierin. It makes zero sense to me that in ten months he won't be getting married to the greatest woman he's known (okay, except you Kate).
This is hard. New Year's changed it meaning to me when I was a kid. My earliest memories are of staying home with my dad and Pat. We would watch Dick Clark, drink sparkling apple cider and countdown the New Year together. We'd call Grandma at work at midnight. Kathy would call, Jim would call, Lisa would call and Mike would call. The damn phone rang for an hour.
I spent many, many New Year's Eves that way. Pat. Always Pat. Sometimes a friend of mine would sleep over and we would try to keep him out of my room, but eventually we'd cave. And there we would be: in front of the television, counting down. Bubbly cider in our hands, noise makers and gazoos.
And then it happened. Jimbo died. My neighbor, my other big brother. He was 21 years old and he went out and had a great New Year's. He went home safely and his chimney caught fire. I was 11. And every New Year's since I've toasted his memory. I've toasted the memory of how things were before he died. How my brother was. How his family was. New Year's was never about what was to be, it was always about what used to be. I'm okay with that. I actually prefer it. I think that you can't say hello to something new without saying goodbye to something that was.
And this year? I'm not feeling any of it. To be perfectly honest, the Dark Guest has been here for a few days and I'm just beat down tonight.
I wanted to come on here and write something about how this would be a moment to remember. To finally embrace the newness, to take it on and challenge myself to be better, to do more. But you know what I'm going to do?
Not a God damn thing.
I'm going to simplify. I'm going to take it one day at a time and live. I'm going to let it all go and let the moment lead me. No plans this year. No promises. No day but today and all that jazz (can you name the musicals?).
Yep. I'm just gonna live it.
I'm going to Breathe. Right Kate?
One breath at a time... because I can.
Jenn, Happy '09 to you and your family. Clink, clink. Here's to memories of all the yesterdays, and hope for better tomorrows. I, like you, used to love to ring in the New Year.
ReplyDeleteJan 1, 1983 changed all that. I wish I could erase that day from the calender. That's how I prefer it as well. As time goes by you ease back into the traditions little by little.
But, when that ball drops, it's just a reminder of another year with out my brother.
Life goes on... one breath at time. Love, Lisa