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How to have a truly happy new year.

For the first time in years, I don’t remember my New Year’s resolution from January. Usually, I write it down in my journal or on a note I stick to my mirror. There’s been many of those dog-eared sticky notes from years past. The year of contentment. Speaking life. We passed pancakes across the breakfast table on January 1st this year. “What do you want from 2018?” I can’t remember my answer. I know what I didn’t want though. I didn’t want to walk into her office and share the parts of my life I’m inclined to hide. I didn’t want to Facetime her the day after she delivered her baby that never breathed. I didn’t want to spend four months wondering how I’d walk into her house on Christmas day and see her empty chair. I didn’t want to go on another first date that led nowhere. We sit across from each other in a little coffee shop in Colorado, picking at a charcuterie board. “When I think about all of the things I have left to go through,” her voice cracks....
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When Death--

It’s the long weekend and I sit in the hospital, tapping my foot ceaselessly on the ugly laminate as the minutes exhale. I’m squeezing a dying man’s hand; the Present always writes itself into history books prematurely. I thought death was a fairy tale…until now. It’s like the doctor says, “People don’t think about death enough.” We think we’ll live forever. We will, but it won’t be here. We only have so long to decide where will be home in eternity.
            
Ecclesiastes is the only thing that makes sense this week: “Meaningless, meaningless…everything is meaningless.” Solomon says to “remember your Creator” because there is no hope in life apart from the cross. The cross turns death into a door for life. I feel a loved one let go of my hand and he walks across the bridged gap and steps into heaven. I’m a witness for only half of the journey.
            
Whatever was left of my child-likeness slips away with his last breath. 


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