You’ve been a wretched beast. There, I’ve said it. What everyone is saying behind your back. We’re all secretly hoping you’ll fade into the night without any parting shots, because, you were the worst year any of us can remember. Of course, if you were the year of new love or life, then, for that, we thank you. But otherwise, it’s time to slam the door on you, the year of disasters.
Personally, I’ve been surprised at the strengths I’ve found throughout your days. I’ve needed them to contend with the horrible events you held. Everyone would probably agree, Covid was the worst, but I have one more devastatingly personal. You were the year in which I lost VST. For that, I’ll never forgive you. You presented so many challenges for me which would’ve come during any year he died. But it wasn’t any year. It was 2020. The year cancer came knocking.
You were the year Virginia City let me go, while holding VST ransom. Living on the mountain was a private adventure only VST and I would understand. One of deep blue skies and white puffy clouds. One of train whistles and cool, crisp summer nights. Of stars so close you could reach out and touch them. Of migrating seagulls putting on a winged ballet just for me one lazy deck-morning. Of SEVERE blizzards. Announced by clip clopping hooves on A Street, wild mustangs coming to graze under my porch. An escape for two from a California we no longer knew, to the wild west we learned to love. Yes, wild she was, that VC.
You were the year I started to drive again in my “Barbie Jeep”, as VST always called it. The year of getting lost in Reno, and learning my way in Tahoe. You were the year of my own pleasure drives to Bridgeport, Hawthorne, Pahrump, and all the little places in between. You were the year in which I tearfully relinquished title of our RV, “White Knight”, sending it away to find new owners, with wheels rolling off toward Florida, the place WE would have visited next.
I learned that I have choices while guiding my own life. In 2020, I needed to step up and chart my own course while you bucked many of my choices. Through fire and smoke, you robbed people of their homes. Stolen livelihoods were lost through lock-downs and closures. People masked. Business gasped. But through all this, families chose to come closer. We grew stronger during your horrors. We found ways to laugh in your face, the wicked year you were.
With months of forced isolation, healthy choices became a staple in my house. Now, when decisions seem unclear, the question I ask is this. “Is this a healthy choice for me?” It’s helped me make many good choices this year, in spite of those that might’ve been fun or tasted good at the time. The best choice I’ve made so far is to live in happiness, mindful and present. With the New Year so close, this is hard to do. We all want to jump from your clutches into next week. We won’t miss you, not one little bit.
You brought dating into my life. Mr. Mud Duck, though gone, will never be forgotten, after saving my life over dinner and making many days better than he could’ve ever known. MFP has come into my life as a friendly movie date. With that being said, I’m still the only person that knows exactly what kind of date I like best. I’ve found a new appreciation for time spent alone that’s valuable, productive, and entertaining. I comfort my bruised soul while knowing there’re worse things than being single. With angels watching over me, although widowed, I’m never alone. Faith is a wonderful escort.
You held some of the most wonderful Acts of Kindness I’ve ever experienced. Through tragedy, family and friends came to me in ways I would’ve never expected. The love and support shown from total strangers to the closest relatives has been overwhelming. Doctors and nurses showered VST and I with love during his short illness and our shorter Good Bye. Without even knowing us, they made the unthinkable something we got through, even if not the most gracefully. Hospice and the Funeral Director helped me with the worst decisions in my life. During the sale of Dunmovin and the purchase of WINTERPAST, beautiful realtors went beyond anything their job required. All my New-Town friends are chosen family now. For all of you, my heart overflows with gratefulness for your support and love. 2020, you couldn’t rob me of all those wonderful deeds.
On Thursday night, I’ll be celebrating. Totally!!! I’ll wait until Midnight and scream into the star-filled sky. For a moment, there’ll be world wide happiness when you’re gone. Not a tear shed. Racing on to 2021, which will be better than you, if only because it is NOT you.
If I was forced to say nice things about you, I suppose I could think of a few. For the briefest of moments, I’ll cling tightly for one last miserable hug, because you’re the year in which I still had VST before I became a widow. You’re the year in which I learned so many great things about my strengths. You’re the year I embraced my life as an author. Your’re the year in which I met all my new friends in my new town. You’re the year in which WINTERPAST came to me, holding me in my grief. You brought me Ninja Neighbor and Miss Firecracker. You’re the year in which I finally got a lawn on which to play in the leaves. You’re the year I chose happiness over despair. You’re the year of newfound womanhood.
So, 2020, we’ll let you hang around a few hours more. Don’t gloat on the handful of niceties I threw your way. You were a horrible beast. A monster accompanying us on grueling trek through a very dry desert of heartache. You robbed us of almost everything. But. You didn’t take our Faith, Love, Hopes, and Dreams. To those we hold tight. Bye, Felicia. We have better things than you to think about. Hurry 2021, we’re waiting.