second year

Well, I survived last week. Not only survived but I thrived, I'm happy to report.

I was busy every single day of the week except for Thursday. Work was a little stressful but I had fun activities every night to look forward to so I didn't dwell on anything I can't change.

My friends went all out to throw me a Hello Kitty birthday dinner. It was awesome and perfect especially since the majority of my guest list is under 12.

On my actual birthday on Wednesday the kids took me mini-golfing. Taz and I used to play whenever we got a chance back in Virginia but I hadn't played in...oh, maybe 20 years so I was a little rusty and I was playing with only 1 arm...at least those were all the excuses I used until I realized I wasn't all that bad. I didn't win but I wasn't really trying. Next time I'm going to scrape the floor with all of them. Win or not, it was fun, pure fun. On a day I had seriously considered just ignoring, a day that was full of pain just a year ago, I chose to look past all that I've lost and focus on what I've gained.

I can't promise it'll work all the time and I can't promise there won't be days I'll want to bury my head in the blankets or smother myself with a pillow but at least for this past week, I'm ok. Not that I didn't cry every single day of last week - I did. The pain was just as raw and searing as if it had all just happened. But after a big cry, I'd dry my eyes and go on to the next fun activity.

And now the second year begins. When my dad died, almost 3 decades ago, I found the second year was even harder than the first. I think that's because I unconsciously set a goal of getting through the first year and when I did, there was a fleeting moment of feeling accomplished and then I realized there had been no point. I got to the end of the first year and what was my prize? Years and years of the same. Let me tell you, that was depressing and it set the tone for the second year.

So I've been very careful not to fall into that trap. The first year wasn't a goal, I've never forgotten that nothing changes after the first year except that now I can never think about what he and I were doing this time *last* year. The only prize I got for surviving the first year was a whole new year, decade, life to survive. Yippee.

But yes - YIPPEE! I have a whole new year to live my life, to make Taz proud, to make ME proud. I am not going to waste that feeling sorry for myself or even feeling sorry for Taz that he's not getting those chances. Of course I'm sorry that he isn't but I choose to believe he's having a way better time up there in Heaven than he ever did down here.

I feel strangely optimistic about 2020.