I have always disliked New Year. Even as a child it always represented the end of my favourite season; an absence of warmth, an emphasis of chaos and disorder, and an unidentifiable sadness. January is a cold month. I remember the dread of going back to school, where I was always odd and disliked. I remember the mess and dirt of our home after the festivities and fun; the Christmas decorations gathering dust and no longer looking beautiful as the days slipped by into spring.
This time round the idea of a new year is very different to me. I welcome it. I view it with tender trepidation that is surrounded by a fragile sense of hope. I hope. For me, my faith in God has always equated to hope. When I pray, I hope.
The past two years have left me feeling bruised by life. Now that a new year has begun I am almost shell-shocked with what has happened. So much has happened. So many changes. Sometimes life moves so quickly I feel I can't keep up. Sometimes I want to hide away from it all. And the older I get, the more the pace quickens.
I pray, I hope, that this year will be less turbulent than the last, and the one before that. Everything is still very raw. Perhaps I feel it more so now (an entire year since he died) because the pace is slowing and I am allowed to feel. I am slowly beginning to recover.
Each day I catch a glimpse of my Dad in my mind's eye and see him alive and smiling. It always brings tears and a kind of heartache that takes the wind out of me. Oh, I miss him. I couldn't have anticipated just how much. Remembering him is a joy and a pain all at once. I often wonder when (if ever) I will be able to remember his face without tears smarting in my eyes and a sore swelling in my chest. My Dad would want me to live my life, be happy and joyful. So that is my goal at the end of the horizon. But, of course, it's not that easy. Grief is the testament to our love when faced with loss, so even for his sake, I can't switch it off. But one day I hope the joy of his memory will out-weigh the pain of loss, and I will make him proud.
So this year I pray, I hope, that we will be blessed with peace and calm to soothe our loss and our heartache. I pray, I hope, for strength and guidance as I learn to love who I am in living my life without the grip of fear governing me.
We have endured and now we will overcome. Happy New Year, Dad. I love you more than I even knew.
