The turn of the year...

The festivities are in full flow and I don’t know where to look, what to say or who to hold. I’m standing in a room full of close friends, having a fun time at a party and suddenly it hits like a hammer - you aren’t there, and you should be. You were last year, and the years before that. I presumed you’d be here this year and in the years ahead when we’d party less and parent more, maybe sitting at home and sleeping through the countdown at our children slept above us. 

Instead I’m clutching at friends and fighting a tearful breakdown. I presumed I’d be glad to see the back of 2017 so why am I ducking into a corridor to hide my tears? Because of the finality - the end of 2017 is the the end of the last year you were alive in. That sentence shakes me to my core. It's like we are leaving you behind - a firm and unstoppable moving on - and that scares me as much as it hurts me. 

How can I face into a new year without you? How's that meant to work? I couldn't be more daunted.