I rang in the 2012 new year by myself, on my parent's couch, probably with a dog, watching television. Don't be fooled, though, it's probably exactly what I wanted to do. My New Year's resolution was to stop texting and driving. I'm continually one of the worst offenders. I really need to stop that.
Mid-month I lost a very dear friend, companion, and family member, our dog Jake. I cried for days. My heart hurt so bad I could have sworn it was literally tearing. We all mourned in our separate ways, and eventually were ready to welcome a new member of the family. Cooper, the littlest Boyken, came into our lives, and in his very adorable and quirky way, he won us all over and home felt warm again. Even mopey Marley came back around. I was only around for Cooper's puppyhood for about a month before I moved to Milltown. May 1, 2012 Logan, the cat I adopted from a friend, and I started living with my serious boyfriend. It was fun, adorable, loving, aggravating, convenient, and eventually over. We broke up in the parking lot of a mall on a summer day. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I wasn't ready for all of the things I was doing. I'd never had my own space, my own time. I needed to know I could do it on my own before I share my life with someone. I moved back home three months after I moved out.
My furniture remained in the garage as a reminder to myself to not get too comfortable here. I knew I was ready to live on my own, I just needed to regroup and restart. I needed a little pick-me-up from my family. That's exactly what I got. My parents were wonderful, as usual, and the three of us worked as a team to find a place for me and the aforementioned Logan. In September, I had a key to my new apartment. It was magical. My family and I started to work on the apartment until all of our worlds simultaneously collapsed.
September 16, 2012. Picking up my sister at her apartment in Pennsylvania to see my dear friend's art show in Doylestown. Our plans come to a halt when twenty minutes later we are sitting in a hospital fighting the possibility of the worst case scenerio. Uncle Bob and Edie, Kelly and I clutching Nan, the doctor comes in and says the words no one is ever prepared to hear in a setting such as that, "He's not going to make it." All at once the room blurred and I can't remember a few seconds after those words. The world kind of swirled and slowed, and voices sounded like when you're coming out of anesthesia and you don't know where the fuck you are. I started to just say "no" over and over and over until Nan gave a comforting "shhh" and the three of us just sat, huddled, trying to process. My mom wasn't there yet. No one wanted to call her because she was driving. I wasn't prepared to see her heart break in front of my eyes. It was just as painful as I could have imagined. The days following the death of my wonderful, wise, loving, compassionate, patient, humble Pop-pop were blank. Empty. Quiet. Work was barely a distraction, but it was better than nothing.
September 21, 2012 an honorable military funeral was held for Pop in Pennsylvania. The whole family gathered, wept, remembered, held each other. I think it was the first time we were all together in a very, very long time. The guards were amazing, TAPS was heart wrenching, and it was far more than Pop would have wanted, but it's what we all needed. It was perfect. The rest of the day was spent with family, food, and memories. Lots and lots of memories. Alexa, my cousin Lizz's daughter who I refer to as my niece, distracted me by being a kid, being outside and in the sunshine and laughing at the little things.
There are certain people in my family who I'd give my everything for, and Lizz and Alexa are on that list. Spending those days in Cape May with them was wonderful. I think it's from that trip that Alexa really got to know us enough to remember us. It was amazing watching her figure things out, and figure people out. Those days at the beach with some of the closest members of my family was a gift and a great vacation from real life.
After complete devastation came strength. There were moments that I knew Pop was with me. Having a frustrating day, can barely get myself out the door in the morning, I open my car door and there was a breeze and what Pop always called "noses" came floating down in front of me. "Noses" are actually Maple tree seed pods, and when you throw them in the air, or they're already falling, they whirl around like a helicopter until they land. My whole life I never knew what those things were actually called, I had to look it up. To me they were just noses. After a bit I decided to be excited about my new apartment. It was mine and I could do what I wanted with it. Paint, blinds, anger at the landlord, and an entertaining Ikea trip later, I moved in. There have been improvements here and there when I have extra money, but it's become home.
The holidays came and went in a blur, but they were lovely. This year it was a Christmas from the heart. I chose to tell my family how much they mean to me instead of figuring out what they could want for Christmas. I thought writer's block was eminent, but the words just came. After recent events, I knew these three people, my dad, my mom, and my sister needed to hear from the normally restrained me. Little did I know, I needed them to know what was in my heart too.
So here is 2013 and with it brings change, as usual. A New Year means new resolutions. New promises to keep to yourself and those around you. Maybe you're resolving to get in shape, or be more patient, or stop drinking like a fish. This year I won't be joining you. I started to change and grow in meaningful ways within the past few months and I want to continue forward without a demarcation line. I welcome 2013 with open arms and an open heart because it is a continuation of a year that has knocked me down, kicked me when I was down, then picked me back up and it should be remembered.
