Here we are at the end of another year and, as Charles Dickens so eloquently began his novel, A Tale of Two Cities, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times ....” For me, his words sum up our year better than anything I could have written myself.
Although our time on the water was beyond compare – from discovering new anchorages to following a black bear as he foraged along the shore – Steven Michael’s death and the pain of losing him was always there. But so was David. And for that, I’m truly grateful. For the past thirteen years, he’s been my soft place to fall and this year, I fell a lot.
So here we are in Wichita, back in the company of family sharing stories and laughter through the tears and missing the ones who can no longer grace our table. We came from all corners of the country, from east to west, and met in the middle – our childhood home – to be together at Christmas and, despite the fact that we all miss Steven Michael so very, very much, we made it through the holidays. Together. As a family.
And now we find ourselves at the end of yet another year, one which neither David nor I are sorry to see end. Unlike previous years, we have no real plans but, rather, things we’d like to do: We’d like to go winter camping. We’d like to spend some quality time with David’s sons and granddaughters. We’d like to cruise to the Central Coast in British Columbia. I’m sure these things will happen one way or the other, but the how isn’t important at this stage. What is important is being with family and trying to find a path to a new “normal”, however unlikely that may seem.
Happy New Year . . . .
