For context, my son was staying at the house with me on my day off. I was out of the living room for five minutes to finish a chore. I came back to him wearing different pants and the bucket. I have no idea where he got the bucket.
I have never been shy of New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve attempted them every year since I was a teenager. I’ll admit that I’ve also failed those resolutions more often than not. But I’ve grown to accept a few traditions when it comes to the new year.
Firstly, that I’ll have a headache. I don’t need to drink for this to happen; I have enough stress just living to wake up with a headache from worrying. But most often it is because of drinking too much on the Eve.
Secondly, that I’d sing “Auld Lang Syne”, if just to myself. In the past, I’d mumble-sing it around my friends, because I hated my singing voice. Recently, I’ve sung it around my children, who don’t know bad singing yet and think their Dad is the greatest man ever.
Thirdly, and sadly, I’ve grown to accept that as time passes, I’d be greeting the new year with fewer people in my life. Most often, this was because of simple time; people grow distant over the years, and I’ve accepted that. Sometimes, however, I’d be raising my pint and saying ‘To Absent Friends’ to honor the memory of someone who would have been right beside me.
I’ve reached the age when I stopped celebrating newborns and began mourning funerals. I understand that and accept it, but I never get to explain it from my own point of view. For most of the world around me, I am a goofy, weird person that is socially awkward. I keep these moments to myself and just go through them.
But I’m stepping into this year with sadness and resolve.
I’ve lost my best friend this past year. I’ve lost my confidante and soundboard. Now, I’m going forward on my own, as it were. Without those moments of being called out for idiocy or missteps.
But I’m also moving forward with experience gained from that friendship. I’m stepping into the next year with the knowledge gained via pragmatic sarcasm.
And through my memories and story-telling, my friend will be there with me.
I’ve accepted that I’ve lost someone. I’ve accepted that as this stage of life, I will continue to lose people. But I will never stop talking about them. I’ll never pass the opportunity to bring them up as anecdotes or witticisms.
I’ll always remember them, in days of auld lang syne.
Happy 2022, readers. Be unforgettable.
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