“To 2012, may it suck less”… (In where our heroine learns that sometimes, life imitates art)…
That was our bravely optimistic toast as we brazenly ushered in the New Year. At the time it was a cautiously optimistic challenge. The universe took it somewhat differently. It appears that it was a defiant challenge to see, just see what we were made of. Remember in that one movie when the goofily optimistic, yet courageous protagonist boldly proclaims to his bedraggled and weary ka-tet, “But it can’t get any worse!”. Always a cringe-worthy moment. But this wasn’t cinema. This was Real Life. And in Real Life, there are no crescendos and epic montages where it all gets resolved and we move on, stronger and wiser.
No. Progress happens at a snail’s pace. Especially when you are, as my dear friend Elizabeth is fond of saying, “going through it.”
I am not even attempting to say that 2012 was sucky. Or terrible. Or the worst of times. Hell, the world didn’t even end! But there were moments, boy howdy, were there some moments. Moments where, if this were a sitcom, someone in the daily meetings would consider cancelling the show, “because it’s just such a “downer, man.”
There were, however, as is typical in my life, moments of incredible, take-your-breath-away beauty. Charles Dickens, he really did have it nailed. It is the worst of times, and the best of times. Life is not an endeavor for the faint of heart.
So, as for this whole, “taking stock of your life” bullshit just because the calendar is rolling over, to quote Grosse Pointe Blank, “leave your livestock alone”.
I will say this about my last year: I never, ever could have survived it without my nearest and dearest. I stand here and shout out your names so that all can hear – you are the life-rope.
Natasha, Mitchell, Elizabeth, Gemma, and Dad. You have the hearts of lions, and at times had to fight like ones. Thank you. And Kevin, Kevin, Kevin… there are no words. You are who I want to be like when I grow up.
Eucharista.
So, no brave boasts about 2013. But babies, I am ready for it. I am stronger in the broken places. And have no one to thank but everyone for helping me make it so. Let’s go be marvelous. Let’s go shine.
Happy New Year.
January 13, 2013 at 4:14 pm
Hi Devon. I was thinking about you yesterday when I made the treacherous mistake of looking Derek up and reading about his tragic death. I cried all day, and when the tears weren’t coming, my heart was still breaking. I thought about you; how we are the same person and I wondered how you handled it when you found out (I’m sure quite a while ago). I couldn’t find reason to back up my grief; I didn’t want to ever see him again. Y’know? But the reality is that he was a large part of my life, my first love, and someone who unwillingly shaped part of who I am today. And there is something about a person dying young that makes us stop and think about the assumption of a long life. About the assumption that someday they will find what they are looking for. For him, it was peace, love, and children. The only comfort for me now is that he has found the first.
I feel better today, but the part of my life that I always knew in my mental periphery was out there… is no longer, and that changes the world for me… albeit minimally.
Though I hated you for years, it’s things like these that bring even opposition together, no? I’d like to put the past behind and maybe talk a little about his death. I can’t help but wonder if it will help me heal.
Jes
thekitschentruck@gmail.com
January 13, 2013 at 4:49 pm
Oh, the tears, here they come again. Welcome, but always a little surprising. This time, they are for you. I wanted to reach out to you sooner, to make sure you knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It wasn’t the animosity we once shared ( and yes, funny how it pales in light of the big finish), but that every time I considered it, I imagined you happy and healed and wouldn’t have dared dragging that ugly into your life. I’m so pleased you responded. You’re the last piece. The big ??? Of the puzzle of his life. It’s a veritable “who’s who” of fantastic hitches. We’re kind of the sewing circle from hell. And there’s enough brains and sexy to take over the world. I can’t wait to talk to you. Email me your #: devongreen@gmail.com. There’ll be a bit of a cosmic disturbance at two girls talking that he never would have wanted to. I’ll warn Mel. Xxx