I’m going to be honest, 8 days into 2017 and I’m still trying to summon that over hype sense of excitement and energy that I usually greet a new year with…and I’m missing the mark quite dismally. Understandably so, though. A very good friend of mine passed away last month which led to me entering the new year with a profound sense of loss, hyper-awareness of my own (and everybody I love’s) mortality and a respectful appreciation for time. From within my cocoon of sadness and grief I can still appreciate the opportunity that the 355 still-to-be-lived days of 2017 have to offer, and have a strong sense of how I want to spend them.
This time last year I was in a dark and aimless space. The previous year before (2014) had left off on a rather horrendous note and honestly, aside from relief at seeing the back of it, I mostly felt mountains of trepidation for the 12 months panned out right in front of me. . The thought of the blank canvas that was 2015 filled me with dread. Lots of dread. I had no purpose. I had no intentions. I was just exhausted.
I met her when I was seven years old. I have no idea why or how we ended up befriending each other, all I know is that we met in catechism class on a Sunday morning and that after church her and I begged and pleaded with our respective mothers’ for her to come over to my house for lunch. We won. That afternoon was spent in giggles as we actively dodged hanging out with my younger siblings (so uncool) and also tried our hands at potion making. Our magic potion involved mixing freshly squeezed grape juice, from the juicy grapes in my family’s backyard, with generously heaped teaspoons of Nestle chocolate powder and water. It was disgusting – hilariously so. Why am I writing about her, you might ask? Because it’s September, which means it’s Suicide Prevention Month…and she took her own life a few years ago and today I really miss her.