January 1st

December 26, 2011

The first of January is somewhat of a special day.

We stay up late the night before, drinking cheap champagne and counting the few remaining moments of the old, dying year.

As we make our final countdown, the calendar year breathes its last breaths and, at midnight on the dot, it expires. Of course, the death of an old year always brings a new, fresh year that each person can mold and shape into what they want.

At midnight, we celebrate the passing of an old day, month, year, decade or millennium and usher in a new measurement of time that call our own.

Some have more reason to celebrate on the day in question.

These people will always live with the easiest birthday to remember.

These “New Year’s Babies,” as they are called, will never need to remind their friends of their birthdays. Seriously. My cousin is a New Year’s Baby.

He’s the only one of my cousins whose birthday I can ever remember.

Of course, I know others. Diane comes to mind, but mainly because she suggested this topic.

However, in recent years, January 1st has taken on another connotation for me.

Yes, it’s probably going to get a little heavy in here, but bare with me.

Howard and Edna Pyles (herein refered to as “Pap and Nan” since that is what I have always known them as) were married on January 1, 1949.

If Pap hadn’t passed last March, they would have celebrated 53 years together this coming Sunday.

Now, some of this year’s holidays have been a little easier than I had expected. Pap’s birthday came and went with few tears. The same for Nan’s birthday and Thanksgiving, when my uncle take over turkey deep frying duties.

Christmas was a bit tougher on us all, and the entirety of the West Virginia Lottery.

Pap played scratch-offs the whole year to fund Christmas in the Pyles household. Some people may not like the idea, but the cornucopia of grandchildren had plenty of presents under the tree every year, so none of us can complain at all.

And without him around this January 1st, things might be a little hairy. As I type, I can feel the want for tears burning just behind my eyes. It’s not a tired burn, mind you. It’s an active, vehicular sting that I can’t stop.

To think, he was just my grandfather. I can’t imagine what his widow will feel that day.
Nonetheless, we will assemble like every year, sharing hopes and dreams for the new year, but this time, we’ll all do our best to fight back tears th whole time.

Of course, I’ll make sure to celebrate with friends and family even more the night before, making sure to take none of them granted in the short, precious time we all have with each other

Regardless of your reasons, I urge you to do the same.

ghjr

———————————————————————————–

This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks to Diane Petraitis for this Monday challenge.

And sorry if it got a bit too heavy for some of you. It needed to be said.

Also, I’m doing this from my new Touchpad, and formatting is tough. Bear with me.

Truly ghjr

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