Tomorrow we will get up and begin the preparation for a New Year’s party, and believe me I WILL BE CELEBRATING the end of this devastating year. 2017 has been HELL YEAR. Between losing Payton, trying to deal with a nearly out of control teenager, and some other traumatic events through this year which have just about torn our family apart, I am ready to let the past 12 months go.
Last new year’s eve, the ball dropped, everyone cheered…except me. I went outside to get away from the excitement (and cry my eyes out) only to find my mom outside, who was not cheering either and had beat me to the crying part. We both just hugged each other, crying, saying how we thought 2017 was going to be the worst fucking year of our lives. We both knew the chances Payton would pass this year were high. He wasn’t himself that night (this isn’t why we thought the year would suck btw). He didn’t play with the kids much, and took a nap in my mom’s bed in the middle of the festivities. When he was up, he just wanted to sit on my lap which of course I soaked up every second of.
While I am ready for a new year, I am also sad to see it go. This was the last year our son’s heart ever beat inside his chest. It was the last year he ever said “I love you mom”. It was the last year I could hug, kiss, and snuggle him. It was the first year we celebrated his favorite holidays without him. It was the first year we held a birthday party for an angel. It has been a year I will never forget for both the best and the worst memories.
2017 is a year that will never leave my vocabulary. “I lost my son in 2017”, those words will pop up here and there over time. Those words mean so much more than the syllables they sound like. They mean “My world was fucked in 2017”, “My whole life changed in 2017”, “I became a broken soul in 2017”, “2017 was the last time I ever held my youngest child in my arms”. I hated 2017, however there were 3 months of this year, before Payton passed, that I could breathe a little bit easier than I can now.
In 2017, I found out not who, but WHAT true friends are and which friends and family members truly give a shit. Payton taught a lesson to so many, but a few, somehow, never learned his lesson and those can GET FUCKING BENT. I learned that even those who think they are weak and couldn’t live without their child, well…they can. Don’t get me wrong it fucking sucks. Nobody WANTS to do this, but the choice is not yours when your child dies. I have learned that strength can come in many forms and is not always within ones self 100% of the time. The kind of strength I’ve found does not put up with any sort of bullshit, and forces me to be true to myself in my words. It also helps me to stay sane (most of the time). It has NOT helped me with forgiveness…see below*
New Year’s resolutions…yeah I have them, however they do not include losing a few pounds (I’ll try that when I decide to give a shit how I look), or quitting smoking (I’ll try that again when I decide I give a shit about living a long life and I can go more than a week without an anxiety attack). They do include embracing my new strength, surrounding myself with those who embrace it with me with their positivity, working on forgiving others even when I don’t want to*, and allowing God to guide me (after I ask for forgiveness for my many F-Bombs🖕).
I hope your New Year is happy. I plan to drown myself in alcohol tomorrow night (don’t judge, tears and champagne mix well together🥂) and trying my best to have a happy New Year with my family.
Happy New Year pumpkin, mommy loves you my sweet Payton Pie❤
If you read this far, thanks for giving a shit. It means a lot😘