So Long, 2016

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” – Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

To paraphrase, “It was a shitty year, it was a wonderful year…”

In 2015, after a month in hospital, Mum died in August. We had a F**k 2015 get together in the new year, and had hoped 2016 would be a hell of a lot better. That hope was short lived, as Dad died in January—during one of the biggest snowstorms of the winter—five months after Mum. We finally laid Dad to rest, next to Mum, on the first anniversary of her death, when all of us sibling could be together again. Between the two of them, it felt like I was never going to stop crying.

It did get better. Somewhat. I still mourn, I just don’t cry as often. But I’m at that age, now, when my friends are losing there parent, too. Three fathers, and two mothers this year. And with each, it brings it all back.

Fortunately, the year wasn’t all doom and gloom. There have been some great moments, as well.

I traveled from one end of the province to the other, and discovered a love for whales that I didn’t realize was so strong. Humpback whales on the southern end, and northern right whales and pilot whales on the northern end. If I had to choose any other creature to be, I would be a humpback whale. They are magnificent, gentle, intelligent creatures.

I’ve written a few dinner theatre comedies over the years, but this year I wrote and directed a drama (dramedy) for a one-act film festival. I got to write some meaty dialogue with a deeper meaning to me than anything I’d written before. I am quite proud of it.

I spent more time with family over the past year, and realize how lucky I am to have such wonderful siblings. Not everyone can say that.

So, I sit here on New Year’s Eve, with the Christmas tree lights, and there counterparts in the window illuminating the room, as per tradition, and I say good-bye to 2016 with a feeling of… peace.

I look forward to 2017, and hope it will be a hell of a lot better. My goals- not resolutions- are to worry less, and write more; to find the things that will help to make me the person I am supposed to be. And I wish for you to find yours.

Happy New Year!13876370_10153622513907032_6242627174727441245_n

You’re My First

Sunday, August 12th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

Hi! I’ve never written an on-line diary before, so here goes my first post.

It is a damp and dreary day out there, and I just saw an earwig crawling on my computer. Yuck! (Excuse me for a moment; squishing earwig.) I wish I could think of something profound to say, but I just woke up after a restless night, and my brain, like the morning, is still foggy, and my eyes unfocused. Things had better clear quickly, as I have to drive Stephanie (That’s my daughter) to work in a couple of minutes, and then I will have to get myself ready for work.

I suppose I could say something like, “Existence is an endless cycle of toil and hardship, followed by uneasy rest, until the end of time.” Or, in other words, “Life’s a bitch, and then you die.” (Oh, no, is it going to be that kind of day?) But that’s a bit of a downer for my first entry. Oh, face it, Dear Bloggary, not every day is sunshine and cute puppies. Sometimes it’s dark clouds and dog poop on the bottom of your shoe.

Hopefully, tomorrow the clouds will part, and I’ll be able to wipe the poop off in the grass. (Metaphorically speaking. …What, Dear Bloggary? You don’t speak metaphorical? Ah, stick with me and you’ll be fluent in no time.)

I guess that’s it for now, Dear Bloggary. My first entry is in the books, er, on the screen.  And I’ve managed to use the word “poop” twice…three times, now. Quite an achievement. So, good-bye ‘til next time, Dear Bloggary.

Yours,

Shannon