new year's eve
It’s the very last day of the very last year that you were alive in.
Tomorrow it will be the same month you died in, and in less than 2 weeks you’ll have been gone an entire year.
How is that even possible? Even with so, so much happening this year, even though our life now is indistinguishable from the way it was at the beginning of the year, it still feels impossible that you’ve been gone for a year. It still feels like you were just here. And yet, also, like it’s been a million years since we had you here with us.
I don’t believe in fresh-page-new-starts like January 1st or a Monday or a new month. That’s just not how life works. We will be the same people when the clock strikes midnight that we were at 11:59. We will wake up tomorrow with the same lives we had this evening. So many people in my life have been so anxious for this year to end, as if we are promised that all the bad luck will stay in 2022. I wish that were the case, but it’s simply not true. This year had an exceptional amount of loss and growth, but so might this coming year.
2022 will always be the year where all the worst and best happened. It’s the year I turned 33; my Jesus year. The most transformative of my life. But tomorrow is not a fresh start. It’s not a new page. It’s just another day with as much promise as any other. It’s also another day without you.
I feel so blessed that I’ve been able to find purpose and joy in this life, even after losing my husband and watching my boys lose their father. But losing you has transformed me into a new person, for better or for worse. It still hurts every moment of the day, no matter how much good this year has brought. Our insides are still wounded and still healing, and likely will be for the rest of our lives.
New Years Eve was the first time you called me your girlfriend, after over a year. Things were complicated because we worked together. I was so much younger. I was naive and lovestruck and just so obsessed with you and I lived for the few nights a week we spent at your apartment. You cooked me dinner and kissed my forehead and paid for my morning cabs long before you called me your girlfriend. Everyone told me I was stupid for hanging around for someone who seemingly couldn’t commit to me, but I never saw it that way. We were committed in the fact we weren’t seeing other people, and that was all I needed for the time being. We didn’t talk about it much, but I knew you were deeply hurt by your previous relationship and that the least appealing thing to you was to immediately jump into a new relationship with a hot mess of a 21-year-old. I was realistic. And patient. Ask any of my friends from those years; every single one will tell you about the certainty with which I spoke of how you’d eventually come around.
And then on New Year’s Eve, walking back to your apartment from dinner down the street, the same way Mr. Big finally sweeps Carrie off her feet at the end of Sex and the City by telling her it took a long time for him to get here but that she’s the one, you told me you’d been an asshole and that I was your girlfriend after all. There was no asking, no overly romantic moment, just the clarification of something I’d known all along. We held hands and kissed and smiled the whole walk home. We celebrated NYE as our anniversary for a long time, until we got married several years later.
And last year, your last NYE on earth, I didn’t even make it to the ball dropping. Ford was 9 or 10 weeks old; I was still only getting a few hours of sleep at a time. I was still breastfeeding. I was back at my work from home job and Axl was home for break from preschool, so I was home with both kids all day trying to care for them and work at the same time. The days were really, really tough. Ford was a needy baby. So our celebration was a quick kiss as I headed up to bed. I remember telling you that I missed you and couldn’t wait until we finally got to hang out again once I had enough energy to stay awake after putting the kids to bed.
We thought we had time.
But you wouldn’t even make it 2 weeks into the new year. We never did get that time together after having the baby.
And tonight, our first NYE without you, Axl had a fun early celebration with my new, wonderful friend Casey. They made hats and ate treats and toasted to the new year. I stayed home with the baby and kept chugging away at the never ending project of unpacking the new house. When he got home, we went to bed early like we always do; with Axl’s knees embedded in my back. I slept on your side of the bed and tried to remember what it was like to have your body occupy the space. I couldn’t sleep. I saw the clock hit midnight. My phone pinged with texts, all of which I ignored to keep staring at the ceiling.
I have plenty to celebrate, but the calendar changing over just isn’t one of them this year. It’s just another painful reminder of the passage of time without you.