Conflict

New Year’s Eve has rarely meant much to me. It’s the start of a new year, but it doesn’t change anything other than the number on the calendar. And I thought this year might go by with the same lack of fanfare. I thought it would just be a turn of the calendar page. I thought the holidays were already mercifully over and that this would basically be another day.

I thought wrong. Very wrong.

2018 brought us so much pain, heartbreak and utter agony. It brought a loss we never expected and a crushing weight on my chest that 9 months later keeps me up some nights. It brought a new level of anxiety that I never expected and certainly wasn’t prepared for. It brought a new understanding of the fragility of life and that everything can change in a heartbeat. It brought about a new me that I’m just starting to get to know.

2018 brought so much hurt that I fully expected the change in the calendar to feel like a release, and quite possibly a relief.

I thought wrong. Very wrong.

And that’s because 2018 brought me my son, my Simon. It brought me the only chance I would ever have to hold him, to kiss his nose, to take in how truly perfect he was. It brought a love I will carry with me for the rest of my life, and a love that will make the world a better place.

We thought the last time we celebrated New Year’s Day that it was the year we’d bring home our second son, and I guess it was, but we brought him home in an urn rather than a carseat. So who knows what 2019 will bring.

One thing I am so terrified that it is bringing is distance from Simon. With every day that passes it’s been another day that I don’t have my son with me. And the new page on the calendar is a glaring example showing me a year that I won’t have my son with me. The idea that time just keeps ticking and the world just keeps moving forward is so painful when that means it’s all moving without Simon.

I’ll always and always carry him in my heart. I am so broken that it’s a new year and the first one that I don’t have him to hold in my arms.

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