Gains made in the "year of loss." A look back on 2012.

I’d be lying if I said 2012 treated me well. The tail end of 2011 was a slow tragedy leading into the sadness that surrounded 2012. I remember arriving at my parents house only to turn around and return to the Soo because a friend of mine was dealing with personal tragedy. I sat across from him at my kitchen table and we talked about death and sadness lingered in the air. Meanwhile around that time we put Gramps in hospice care. Mortality is a terrifying side effect of life. I suppose it was no surprise, if I’m being honest Gramps had been dying a slow death for years, but the impending doom of death hung in the air twisting and flashing amongst the twinkling Christmas lights we’d hung in his room. I knew when I kissed him on the forehead the night before I left for Ohio that I would probably never see him again, and I didn’t. Shortly after the beginning of the new year he closed his eyes for the final time and finally he was free of pain. It was both heartbreaking and relieving in one fell swoop. I dearly loved—love my Grandfather, but for as long as I can remember he’d been sad.  There was a sadness in his heart that came from losing my Grandmother to cancer when she was so young, and to then later in life lose his old friend, soulmate, and wife to another form of cancer. So when he finally slipped away I felt selfishly sad and comforted in knowing that perhaps he was reunited with the women that he so dearly missed. It was a rough way to begin a new year, but my heart was healing and I was moving on. Then, tragedy struck again, this time unexpectedly. My only surviving Grandmother was a force of nature. My father’s mom was a woman that greatly shaped me into the person that I am today. She was a lover of life, a zealot when it came to laughter, and a true angel walking on earth. She was 89 years old with more spunk and life in her than most kids my age. But, in one fell swoop life caught up with her, just short of 9 decades of life she suffered a stroke. She held on for a week and then the last of my grandparents silently left this earth. She was much older than my Grandfather on my mom’s side of the family, but her death was the surprising one of the two. I sat on the stool and listened as my mom took the call from my dad as he whispered the news I had hoped wouldn’t come. I left minutes later to drive back to my home in the Soo and in that hour long drive I mourned the loss of two grandparents. I was overcome with a new felt sadness for Grandma Marnie, my mom’s mother. The woman I never met. I cried for Grandma Connie, my mom’s stepmom and a woman I barely remember. I choked back sobs over the loss of Pa, my dad’s father and a man I was robbed of at a such a young age. There was a sudden realization that I had reached the point in my life where I no longer had grandparents. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I thought of my parents, now parentless and I was filled with unbridled terror over the thought that I too would someday have to live without my parents. I cursed and I screamed and I cried as I drove north on I-75. This was the start of my year and already I had had enough. I wished the year away.

As Spring broke we said our final goodbyes to Gram in a funeral service filled with both tears and laughter. I was glad for the laughter, because I knew Gram would have wanted it that way. Summer slowly crept in and a clash of family schedules postponed Gramps’ memorial. I spent all Summer slowly but surely healing. I knew I owed it to my Grandparents to pick my heart up off the floor, dust it off, and move on. In the early Fall we gathered on a boat to send Gramps’ off for one last sail on the water. As we sprinkled his ashes into the lake that holds so much meaning to my mother’s family I choked back tears and read the poem that always meant so much to him. It was the final chapter in the year of loss for me.

As Fall dragged on I was filled with a feeling of new beginnings. Fall has always been special to me, I was born in the Fall, and something about the crisp air, the leaves whispering in the winds, and the beautiful sunsets have always moved me. I’ve always believed that with loss comes gain and I was on the brink of gaining new members of my family. For me family has always been about love, not blood. Family to me is a strong sense of connection to another human being, an undying love and appreciation for someone that finds themselves deeply enclosed in the crevices of your heart. I found my new family members in a place that has always been a beacon of hope and happiness in my life. I met two of my dearest friends—sisters in that place. The motto I’ve always had in regards to our friendship is “all I had to do was turn around.” They’d been standing behind me as I stood in front of the glass for months and suddenly I turned around and our friendship was born. That same magic happened again this year. I turned around and looked around and found a whole new group of people. A friendship forged through a shared passion for hockey, slightly warped senses of humor, and a need for family whilst away from the ones we already called family. Those people have been the saving grace for the year of 2012. Suddenly a year that had made me feel so alone suddenly made me feel supported. Though I do not know these individuals as well as I would personally like to, our times together have made me smile and laugh during a year I was sure would only be filled with tears.

As I sit on the brink of a brand new year I can’t help but be hopeful. Though with these new friends came a specific person that made me shed tears for a form of heartbreak I’m all too familiar with, I wouldn’t never wish them away. They have given me what I so desperately needed, a feeling of family. Though these people and this bond can never replace the Grandparents I’ve lost this year, they can help heal the sadness that came from that loss. I can only cling to them and the memories we create as I finish up the last moments in the town I’ve loved and lived in for over half a decade. I can tuck them safely in the crevices of my heart and keep them with me even when I finally leave this place. I shudder to think what this year would have been had I not met them. For a girl that avoids using words like fate and destiny I can’t help but think that I was meant to still be here and a searching for family because it was in the year of loss that I gained so very much. 

The Story of a Lighthouse and a Ship

I remember the first moment I saw him. Something deep inside me screamed. A loud earth-shattering scream that vibrated through my entire body. His smile. Oh, his smile. It was like a lighthouse guiding, drawing me in after years of floating out at sea. That first night, everyone could see it in my eyes. A new light, slowly seeping into my hazel eyes, my heart was awake. That first night we spent in my sacred temple. I forgot to say my prayers because I was, in that moment all consumed. He stood so near and I could feel his warmth. I could hear the bells in the distance or perhaps it was a ringing from the blood rushing to my face. Then he made me laugh. He made me throw my head back and laugh the way my Grandmother taught me how. It echoed off the ceiling and he smiled. I made him laugh. A deep laugh working its way from his toes to the ceiling. It circled through the air and encompassed me. It lit up the part of my heart I had promised to let remain dark. His eyes, the way they danced to the sound of our jokes, lost in a melody no one but us two could appreciate. That first moment, first night, I was so sure it was the start of many…and it was.

I remember the first night he let me entangle myself in him. We sat close, too close for friends. We shared whispers and secrets. I snuck a glance, and he was looking back. Our eyes locked and we stared at each other. Something so comfortable about the discomfort of looking into each other’s windows of the soul. I smiled and he whispered “What?” and I knew there was no reason for that question—he knew. Our bare arms touched and sparks ignited in the dimly lit room and I shook from both fear and excitement. Who was I in that moment, but a young girl on the verge of something she thought wasn’t possible? I asked the stars for more moments like that and they gave me what I needed.

I remember the way it felt to fold into him. He shifted and twisted so that I could lie beneath his sun. My fingers stretched to get lost within his hair and he tilted his head and I believed. I danced with my friends on back porches making more wishes on the stars of Northern Michigan and they smiled. Something was starting, and like a wildfire spreading through my veins I burned with hope. I was sure, I’d never been so sure. The girl that swore destiny was a lie that people told themselves started whispering words such as fate and the stars twinkled.

I remember the first sick twisted shred of doubt as it crept into my mind. I remember crying in front of the people I loved and them telling me hope was not lost. The same twinkle that danced within my eyes was there within his. I confided in my brothers that my heart was falling and they held me and told me that I deserved this feeling. My captain took my hand and told me I was beautiful and meant to be loved. I believed. I set timeframes and created opportunities to bring him to me. I reached out and touched the flame and came out unscathed. I was sure. They were sure. It was only a matter of time—or so I thought.

I remember the night he shattered the last beating corner of my heart. I stood within my temple and he softly whispered venom in my ear and I nodded my head like an obedient child. There is no such thing as fate. This silly girl should have known. My Irish blood craved escape within a bottle and I drank. I forced laughter to my face while my friends saw the broken bits of glass in my eyes. I sat on tables and sang silly songs and he watched. He tuned in to watch the show that he was directing and my past whispered lines for me to say. I escaped to a cold porch and looked up to find no stars. He asked me questions and I gave him truths he wasn’t ready to hear. We murmured false apologies that neither of us meant and I bled out in front of him.

I remember lying in bed replaying moments and analyzing footage. Something deep inside me screamed again, this time the scream was blood curdling pain. I refused to run aground in front of his lighthouse, I refused to let the shore rip my ship apart. He refused to push me away so I answered his muted calls. I catered and pined and clung to the hope, my friends, brothers, and captain had given me. I clung to the hope that swelled when his golden browns reflected in my hazels. The longer that I looked the more the stars laughed.

I remember giving. Letting little pieces of the broken glass fall into his hands thinking the heat from his body would meld them into something solid again. Like lightning striking sands on the shores of Lake Superior I thought he could meld my tiny pieces into a beautiful sculpted mess. But though the thunder rolled the lightning never struck. In a last ditch effort for salvation I rained upon him and he pulled on his raincoat and turned away.

I remember giving in and giving up. I swept the broken glass into my pocket and slowly turned away. Salt water poured from my eyes and I let it fall to the ground. I pulled anchor and slowly turned back out into the dark December seas. I set a course for anywhere but here and I looked for the stars. The stars that promised and then laughed had disappeared. A cold winter of the soul had settled in and the clouds covered the sky. The compass that had spun in his direction was now cracked and broken and tossed into the waves. I turned one last time to see if his lighthouse was still shining and though I could see its outline in the distance its light had burned out. I sailed into the dark without him ever knowing the life changing goods I had come to deliver. They stayed wrapped up in tattered boxes within the hull of my ship waiting for a lighthouse keeper with courage to shine for me.