Just like every year since I can remember, I have spent the last few days of December reflecting on the year and thinking about the coming one. But this year is a little different because I was hit with the reality that this year could very well have been my last.
I lost my dad in 2010, and as much as I loved him, that was different than being faced with my own mortality. Although I know I will write more about my accident in the coming days, today I want to focus on the gratitude I have for life. When I awake each morning, I am thankful for another day. As cliche as it might sound, it’s true. Yes, I was appreciative before now, but I had never experienced how fragile life really is until this year. I realize I only delayed the inevitable. The gift in all of this is that life is sweeter.
Looking over the past year, I have lots for which to be thankful. My first grandchild was born. Her father and mother married (my oldest son and the baby’s mother). My step-father beat death a few times. One of those times he says he actually died. Being there with him, I don’t doubt what he says is true. And I survived a traumatic accident.
2014 is a new beginning, as are all years. But I am especially excited about the coming year, because there was a moment when I thought I might not have a 2014. I was faced with the reality that I may never get to jump the hurdles I have put in my own way. I am no longer willing to not do things because I feel anxious or inadequate. I may never get another chance. I’ve known this on an intellectual level, but I now I have had an experience that has driven the concept home.
So, as I watch the ball drop and toast in the new year with a glass of champagne, hugs and kisses from my husband and son, and text messages from my grown children and other family members and friends, I will remember that each moment is a gift. And as I begin carrying out my new year’s resolutions tomorrow, I will do it joyfully. After all, my whole purpose in making them is to become closer to my ideal self… to become more of who I really am.