the new year

2012 was a hard year for me. The hardest. But I'm not happy to see it end. In fact, I haven't posted this blog sooner, because I've been trying to ignore the "new year" as much as possible. My son died in 2012. I spent the year watching my son become more sick, receive a prognosis I wasn't ready to hear, and I lost parts of my identity. One might think I'd be happy to be starting over, to have a fresh start, but I'm far from that. 

Every time I hear "2013" pain strikes my heart and my stomach twists in knots. It's painful being in a year that my baby doesn't exist in. In 2012, I had Handsome. It may have been hard, but I could hold him. I got to see him smile. I could hear his voice, touch him, feed him, smell him... in 2012, he was here. But he's just a memory in 2013. 

I feel like I'm leaving him behind, like I'm moving on without him. 

By now, each year, I've come up with many resolutions, with excitement. I'm going to get organized. I'm going to pursue my photography career. I'm going to lose weight. I'm going to go vegan.... I make A LOT of resolutions, but with the lack of anticipation for the new year, I've also lacked motivation to make changes. 

I think about who he was last year at this time, what he looked like, how he laughed and he used to say "hey" in his hoarse little voice. I remember how good it was for us, last year. Doctor's were confident that we had conquered his epilepsy and the seizures were under control. Everyone had so much hope for my Handsome last January. They told us it was all an up hill climb from here. He'd have bad days, but he was getting better....

It's been 12 months, though, and instead of getting better, he's no longer here. 2012 was the last time I got to hold my baby. 2012 was the last time I had hope.

I miss 2012.