A New Year

The little gifts I brought back from America were a big hit. I kept the crying to a minimum even though I was thinking: After I’m gone, every time they smell that cookie dough car freshener they’ll think of me. Alex’s present to me was an iPad2. I never expected it. I couldn’t even speak. It made me sad that he felt it necessary to buy me such an expensive gift. I couldn’t help recognizing the compensation that was attached to it. But I threw that away. This was Christmas. It was supposed to be full of unexpected things. I was excited and looking forward to learning how to use it. My present to him was a coffee maker. I rejected the smaller machines and bought the two-cup espresso/cappuccino/latte maker with the steamed milk and boiling water attachments. I was overcompensating for his loss. He had tears in his eyes when he opened it. We threw our arms around each other and hugged. In that hug was every emotion. We were sad and happy, thankful and scared. We didn’t know how many more Christmas hugs were ahead of us, but for now this hug said it all.

      The following week involved doctor’s visits again but interwoven with the practicalities of my disease were the beautiful moments I got to spend with my family around the Christmas tree. I tried to spend New Year’s Eve in a light-hearted mood as well but found it difficult. Now that I had reached my goal of living through Christmas I was back in unknown territory. A brand new year stretched ahead of me like a blank canvass. I didn’t know how much of it I would get to fill before I died. I recorded the important dates in my new 2012 diary but as I wrote down each birthday and holiday I wondered if I would be turning these pages myself. I had to snap out of it. It wasn’t fair to ruin New Year’s so I suggested we play a few games of bingo. I asked the girls what their resolutions were. Abby said hers was to do well at school. I argued that resolutions were supposed to be something new, a change, like giving up smoking or swapping careers, not something you would normally do anyway. I don’t know why I felt the need to be confrontational. It upset Abby and it sabotaged the evening. At midnight we lit some fireworks. Alex had bought them for Guy Fawkes Day while I was in America and saved some for this night. We weren’t sure if it was strictly legal to set them off in January but I figured my “situation” warranted special dispensation. We blasted five or six rockets into the sky then we called out Happy New Year. But in spite of our good intentions, my ridiculous disagreement with Abby earlier meant it was all a little strained.  To break the tension I started a debate on whether we would pronounce 2012 as “two thousand and twelve” or “twenty twelve”. I liked twenty twelve. I hoped it would like me.

      At 2am I took a sleeping pill and made my own New Year’s resolution. I would make it through the year. I would sit around the Christmas tree again, and I would fire another rocket to welcome twenty-thirteen.