So January has arrived…
Despite multiple messages asking what my plans were for the evening, there were no invites out. Honestly, I wouldn’t have gone anyway, but it would have been nice to know that my friends wouldn’t want me left alone as a sad lonely widow on New Year’s Eve.
Spent the afternoon, evening, and night watching movies. Took myself to the cinema, to be where we were at this time last year, to see the next movie in the sequence. It was my first time to the movies since his birthday when we went together. The cinema was a place I didn’t want to face since his passing because it was a date night thing. …Being home alone with my thoughts seemed like an even scarier idea tonight though.
I made it through the movie, and bolted as soon as it finished. I didn’t want to see snuggly, lovey, kissy couples wishing one another a happy new year. I didn’t want to see any clocks. My goal was to get home and fall asleep without seeing it was past midnight, despite knowing it already was.
…..and there’s the ride check. Out of all the people I could end up speaking to first in the year, it’s a police officer. The last time I spoke to a uniformed officer was when I was being told that every attempt to revive my husband was unsuccessful… They had “done all they could”.
…and here an officer stands, telling me happily that I was driving down main street as the new year rolled in, and proceeded to wish me a happy new year while my face started to tear up. There went the last shred of my avoidance attempt, and on came the tears. The screaming began shortly upon making it into the house. What a way to ring it in.
Fuck 2014 for taking Mark away. Fuck 2015 for coming without his physical presence. Fuck each and every year without him by my side. And fuck the ‘happy new year’ sentiment that people still insist on sending while they get to kiss their loved one and hold them tight.