If journeys end with lovers meeting, what do years end with? I never really enjoy New Year at the best of times and 2014 has not been the best of times for me. It’s been a tough year, marked heavily by the loss of Dad in the autumn. The loss catches me at the strangest times and never when I expect it, when I can brace myself against it. Christmas Day, for example, passed without too many tears but before Christmas, oh the sadness of writing a plan of my Christmas shopping that didn’t have “Dad” written at the top under “Mum”. I missed going into bookshops, seeking out new or rare SciFi novels Dad might not yet have read, wrapping those fat rectangle parcels that could only be books, would only ever be books.
2014 was a bad year, then, for what I lost, but I cannot quite write it off that easily. 2014 is also the year I saw my eldest niece finish school and become a sharp young woman at college. It is the year my youngest niece started school, the year my nephew shone with wonder and kindness at every turn. Sometimes it feels like Dad is getting further away from us, but time spins us all around a clock face and those circles can bring us back to where we began. Hannah has all the love of live music her Granddad had, Jack has inherited the sharp and silly humour both his Granddads gave him, Milla has the same stubborn set to her determination that could drive us crazy about Dad.
This is the year I discovered depths of strength I never thought I’d have. Days after we lost Dad, I was back in my writing class with a waver in my voice but a stubborn set in my heart. I was a pall bearer at the funeral and I didn’t stumble or buckle under the weight of it. My sisters, my niece and I spoke to people about the Dad we knew; we cried, laughed, kept our promise even when our hearts were breaking and danced when we remembered him. Dad’s last gift to me, then; immeasurable strength to remain standing.
Give over, as Dad would say, things really aren’t so bad. This is also the year I learned more and improved more than I ever thought I could in my writing, the year I saw incredible plays and music with friends and family and made memories that will last a lifetime; I finally made it to the Edinburgh Festival I’d dreamed of visiting for years. It’s been a year of finding new friends in sometimes unexpected places and of old friends showing such kindness and care that even in my darkest hours, I’ve never felt entirely alone and sometimes puzzle over how I deserve such good people to catch me every single time I fall.
What can I say, then, about this year’s end? Time passes and we try to balance what we’ve gained against what we lost and can never quite reconcile the two. We move forward - we try again, try something new, keep trying - and accept these recent times as something to settle into the landscape of our past. Perhaps the truth is this simple: years end.
