The year 2012 is about to close... and another year will begin.
It's funny, I guess, but I don't want 2012 to end. No more so than I wanted to deposit checks we received at Avery's funeral. I don't want to face its completion. I don't want to consider this chapter "closed."
"Closed" sounds so final. So absolute. So... unrelenting.
I know what happens to memories. They fade. I know this because I lived 14 amazing years in my childhood farm home and yet I only have the same handful of repeated memories to share: Shannon shaving the goats in the bathtub; an epic food fight with one last bean stuck to the kitchen ceiling; one fabulous play complete with a brown paper bag rainbow that we actually walked over --- but what happened in between? What did we play and sing and talk about in between the food fight and the rainbow?
I worry that time will make that in between space of Avery memories too far for my heart to span.
More space. Less memories.
More of one thing means less of another.
More is less.
I think about the common practice of establishing resolutions for the New Year.
More exercise; less weight.
More health food; less sugar.
What do I resolve to do for 2013? More happiness, less tears? More faith, less fear? More friends, less enemies? More love, less hate. More good, less evil...
More white. Less black.
The truth is a truth only my heart understands but my earthly mind can't wrap itself around: I will be forever thankful for this year.
It would be so easy to hate 2012. Hate October 24th especially. Yet, I can't. October 24th, 2012, was the day my heart shattered into a million pieces ... but my eyes were opened wide. My eyes watched as hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people, each holding a tiny piece of my shattered heart, lined up in a humble effort to help put it back together again. And with each hug, with each silent knowing look, with each tight squeeze of my shoulder, I saw it: Love.
2012 was filled with so much Love.
I don't want 2012 to end. I don't want the year to close. I want the love to continue to grow and spill over into 2013; into the yards of neighbors and into the hearts of strangers.
More faith and hope and goodness.
I won't lie. I'm scared. I'm scared of what comes next: will Brody forget the time he spent with his sister? Will Jadrian ever recover from losing her only sister... will eleven years of memories of fort building and dance routines and making crafts be darkened by haunting images of one singular moment in one singular day? I don't know.
But I know if there's more white in the world, at least we have hope.
More white... means more hope.
More means more.
More hope means more faith.
More faith means more love.
More love means more white.
More means more.
In 2013, I resolve to Be More.