Ruth was found on a Friday in March and that is her official date of death, but I had talked to her several times the previous Monday and could not reach her after that, despite dozens of attempts. Her boyfriend left her alone Monday night, passed out on the bed, and he was the one who found her in the same place when he finally returned home the following Friday, so I believe she died on Monday evening and was already dying or even dead when he left.
As I told her constantly, I was proud of Ruth; she was brave and creative and hopeful and kind to others, but undermined by outside forces and experiences, many of which were beyond her control. She struggled much of her life with PTSD, along with other diagnoses. I have wished a million times that I could have done a better job of protecting her, that I could go back to find the thread of her life and stop it from unraveling. I’ve been told by several people that there will come a time when I am grateful, at least, that Ruth no longer has to struggle, but I doubt that will happen unless I get over the fact that she had to suffer at all, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Talk of religion only makes me bitter.
Every moment of the remainder of the year was tainted by the loss of my youngest child, and of course that undercurrent will be with me for the rest of my life. But the year also brought many things I am grateful to have experienced. This year marked the high school graduation and start of college for my oldest grandchild, an extremely talented musician and mathematician, who brings me joy every time I think of him. I saw him and his sister perform with their orchestra several times, including a performance of a piece composed by my grandson. That was a special thrill. This is the senior year of high school for my next oldest grand, who is a stellar student, a talented musician and artist who also delights my soul.
In a very different way than with Ruth, I am so proud of them both. With Ruth my pride was always tinged with regret for the things she had suffered, and my memories are touched with the same. With the grands, my feelings have no such conflict. They are both accomplished and smart and doing remarkable things, but my pride and joy in them stems mostly from how decent and thoughtful they are. They are genuinely nice people. I want them to be happy but beyond that, it doesn’t matter to me what they choose to do or become. They are enough in themselves to make me proud. And both of them seem to be level-headed and to have a foundation of love and confidence that makes me so very happy.
My son and his wife celebrated their 22nd anniversary this year and as always, I am amazed at how time has flown by since I first met and fell in love with the woman my beloved son would eventually marry and raise children with. They and their family are certainly the best thing in my life, always. And in my birth family, two of my siblings, both with severe health issues, continued to do better than anyone expects, and I am grateful for the time we’ve had together, and which we cherish more every year. Meanwhile my third sibling, the healthiest of the lot, continues to run marathons and break records in his age group. Jack's children live close by and we are grateful to be able to spend time with them so often.
Jack and I are getting older, and that is also a matter of good fortune. We feel lucky to be doing it together.
And my little “bonus” grandson, born to my step-daughter two and a half years ago, is a bright and beautiful delight. His messy kisses, sticky fingers and cute little demands are wonderful in themselves, but they also bring memories of all the other children I’ve loved as they moved through those darling toddler years.
Because Jack and I have Covid I will be missing our annual Chocolate Fondue New Year's celebration, my favorite holiday of the year, and I am very sad about that. There is something special about a tradition that goes all the way back to when my son was a little boy, and I look forward to it all year, which has nothing to do with the chocolate. So I will miss being with my family, as we all get older and more spread out, our times together are more precious every year. Besides the concern of infection, this virus has knocked me flat; I feel terrible. So I'm not happy about any of it, but maybe I can find some small benefit in having this evening of quiet reflection. In some ways it is a fitting way to end a difficult year.
It has been a difficult year, but I remain luckier than most and grateful for all the good. I will try to focus on that in the coming year. Here's hoping that 2024 will bring peace and health to all of us.
