Something of beauty

(This article was originally published on my Facebook page on January 1, 2018.)

This year, I’m not really feeling the whole New Year thing.

It’s not that I don’t have wonderful moments to look forward to in 2018–I do. I’m travelling to Costa Rica and Bali, I’m committed to my personal challenge of writing a book, my business is doing well and I love the work I do, I’m buying an apartment with one of my daughters, and love watching my other daughter reap the rewards of recovery. My granddaughter is a bundle of joy, I’m taking my mom on a vacation, I’ll continue to eke forward in my health and wellness goals, I’ll spend time with friends and family I dearly love, and I’ll have lots of quality time with myself.

But I lost my 21-year-old son in 2017. I remember him laughing so hard on his last birthday at the irony and humour that he was now “legal” everywhere.

It’s not that 2017 was all bad—it wasn’t. I vacationed by myself for the first time and swam with turtles. I transitioned my business into something more personally rewarding, I exercised regularly for a good long while, I got closer to living with purpose and passion, I was part of a 12-step group and did some steps, I spent five weeks in Portugal listening to waves and watching sunsets, I began to understand the value of community, I had healing time on the Sunshine Coast with family and old friends, and then another magical weekend there with new friends and a news crew. I did some radical decluttering and transformative laughing. I saw my son come home to recovery, again and again, and make life-long connections and friendships there. I watched proudly as he continued to find his way to himself.

But I didn’t know how short his life would be. He planned to go back to China, at some point, and to visit his friends in England. He was determined to be a good role model for his niece, and to be part of her life.

My son died four months ago. At his Celebration of Life, people he loved spoke about how many—how very many—lives he touched and made better just by sharing himself with them. Sharing his love of music, his goofiness, laughter, wisdom, and encouragement. Sharing his story and his time. I heard from the people who credit him with saving their lives. But nobody could save my son’s.

So, I move into 2018. I make plans and I look forward to them. I look back on 2017 and find things to be grateful for and I’m truly grateful. But I don’t feel much of anything for 2018. Sometimes, I don’t really feel much at all. Maybe that’s ok, for now. Maybe I’ll just focus on trying to feel something of beauty in each and every day as it comes. Some days I may find beauty through laughter or new experiences or sunshine. Other days, beauty may come through tears or old memories or rainy days and warm blankets. Or a well-timed phone call, or a purring cat. My goal for the New Year is to take the time to notice at least one of the ways in which every day is beautiful.

I think that will have to be enough for 2018.