Day 290

For the last several years, New Year’s Eve has been a day of stress. A day to clean, shop, decorate, and prepare for my son’s birthday party. Every year on his birthday — New Year’s Day — we had a party from him in which his grandparents would visit. Every year, my parents looked forward to celebrating the day with my son. Every year, until now. Dad’s death, combined with the pandemic, has changed the way we will celebrate my son’s birthday. Every year, the stress nearly overwhelmed me. I wanted everything to be perfect. So that my son would have a memorable day. So that my parents would have enough to eat and not be critical about how cluttered our place is. Every year, I wished for a little less stress, perhaps a bigger place. This year, I miss the stress. I miss the planning and the anxiety. I wish Dad was still here so that he and Mom could come and spend the day. I miss the last minute hustle to have everything in order. The push to decorate. The anticipation of company. I miss Dad.

Eleven years ago, I was in the hospital waiting for my son to arrive. From the start, he was difficult. I’ll never forget the contraction that seized me as the ball struck 2010. And still he didn’t come. He got stuck and so twenty two hours later they wheeled me into the operating room for a C-section. The doctor cut him out and I couldn’t breath. I thought I was going to die. Even with the oxygen mask, I strained to pull enough air into my body. Then I tried to kiss my son, his cheek bouncing off the oxygen mask while my spouse laughed and took pictures. While I was in recovery, my spouse called my parents. Dad answered the phone, and the first thing my spouse told him was that his grandson looked like him. The following day, Mom and Dad drove into New Jersey to meet their grandchild. They were so happy. I knew Mom really wanted a grandchild, but I had no idea how much it meant to my father until he held my son for the first time. 

This year, God was cruel. He stole from my son the grandparent he needed most, the one he looked up to, the one who most made him feel special. It’s so unfair that Dad isn’t here anymore to spend precious moments with us. Last year, when he wheeled my son’s new bike up to the front door for his birthday, I had no idea it would be that last party he’d ever come to. It was the second to last time my son ever saw him. I thought for sure he’d be back again this year.

Since Mom doesn’t drive, she wouldn’t be able to come to a party in New Jersey. Therefore, yesterday, we drove to New York so that we could have an early birthday party for my son. Mom decorated with balloons and a happy birthday sign. She bought my son the peanut butter ice cream cake he wanted. But again, like on Christmas, Dad’s absence was heavy upon us. Mom bought my son a computer — his very own — so that he wouldn’t have to use my old one for school. He was super excited to get it. She also gave him a lego set. My son insisted on sausages for dinner, the same dish I had made for the last several parties. The four of us played Catch Phrase. And my son enjoyed cuddling with his uncle’s dogs. My brother wasn’t home, just his dogs. He was up in Cape Cod, cleaning out his things from his condo which he is very sad to be selling. This year — 2020 — has been unkind to us in so many ways.

Today, my son and I went to taekwondo to do a workout and to ring in the New Year — Seoul time. The last two years the event was crowded. This year, it was only the two of us in-person with the instructors and three other family who participated via zoom. We had fun, we but missed the other students. 

After taekwondo, we headed over to the archery range where we spent another hour and half shooting. It was fun, relaxing, almost mediative. 

Last year on New Year’s Eve, instead of staying at home like we always did, we were invited to a New Year’s Eve party. It was probably the most enjoyable New Year’s Eve my son ever had since he got to hang out with friends. For me, it ranked in the top five. Foolishly, we thought a fun night would ring in a happy year. We couldn’t have been more wrong. This year, we’ll stay home, just the three of us. Perhaps we’ll watch a movie. It won’t be an exciting night. We’ll be ringing in the first year that won’t have Dad in it. It’ll be sad, like every other holiday has been. But hopefully, 2021 will be kinder to us. We desperately need a stroke a luck, a little happiness, a new beginning.