I love New Year’s Eve.
I’m not talking about the glitz of the party dress or the free flowing champagne (although I’ll take those too.)
I’m talking about the chance to start over again. Hit the reset button.
This year, in particular, I’m excited to say goodbye to what has been the hardest year of my life.
I know. That’s quite a statement. Especially taking into consideration the dark year of 1992 when I didn’t get the role of ‘Cowgirl #1” in our school play.
That is not to say that I haven’t had some good moments this year (hello all-expense-paid trip to Europe) but emotionally and mentally I have struggled.
I stopped blogging in the spring blaming it on not having the energy or the time. But there was a part of me that felt like nothing in my life seemed worth writing about.
This year was also especially hard as I lost one of the most important people in my life, my grandfather. Although I had wanted to write something for him after his funeral, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As if putting down on paper that he wasn’t here anymore made it too real.
Even though he had been sick. Even though he was older. Even though everyone told me he was at peace now, it didn’t seem to matter. The fact was that he was gone. That we would never again have this conversation for the thousandth time:
How’s my favorite granddaughter?
I’m your only granddaughter, Grandpa.
I know, but you’re still my favorite.
I lost someone who was in my corner. Who always had my best interest in mind and who loved me unconditionally – no matter what crazy play I made him go to or how many times I broke his heart and moved a little further away.
He was always a champion for my happiness.
It’s scary to realize that I might have to be that for myself now. That a space in my life has opened up that no one can really fill. That it’s now up to me to take all that wisdom and love that Grandpa dolled out over the years and wallpaper it on my heart.
For Christmas this year my grandma gave me Grandpa’s wedding ring that he had worn for forty-two years.
For me, it’s not only a reminder of a man who was the touchstone of our family but also a reminder of where I came from and what kind of person I was raised to be.
The kind of person who welcomes the future with open arms, unafraid.
So welcome, 2013.
I’ve been waiting for you all year.