A New Year

Another holiday season has come and gone—the second one since Art died—and we are already a full month into a New Year. I'm not sure that this holiday season was easier than it was last year, but it wasn't harder, either. It was just different, and quieter, but not necessarily in a bad way. I kept last year's resolution and sent Christmas cards and an explanatory letter to friends who still didn't know about Art's illness and death. That resulted in phone calls and letters that brought back a flood of memories and some tears. Would it have been easier if I had done it sooner? There's no way to know that, and it really doesn't matter now, but I do feel relieved to have finally done it.

I've spent these first few weeks of the new year wondering about what lies ahead for me. Will this year be better than the last? Will I start missing Art less than I do right now? Will I stop thinking of him the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night? Will all those "special" occasions be easier to face this second year without him? Certainly, I hope 2011 will be better than last year, not just for me, but also for our country. But, to tell the truth, the possibility of missing Art less, and not starting and ending my days with thoughts of him, scares me a little. I don't want to forget him—ever—but I do want, and need, to stop just "going through the motions," and move on with my life in some truly meaningful way. I guess that finally figuring out how to do that should be my challenge for 2011.

I have four friends who have been widowed in the past few months and they need me to assure them that "things get better." Obviously, things do get better, as long as we're willing to keep trying to make them better; but it doesn't happen overnight and, as any grief counselor will tell us, it's not a linear process. Even after a year, I still have my "good" days and my "bad" days. I've experienced a number of truly happy moments this past year, but they've all been tinged with some level of sadness. Surely, that will change in time. Surely, I will experience pure joy again.