…you weren’t my favorite year, but I have been blessed with so much I find it hard to complain. So instead I’ll just write the truth, a letter to you for all to see. My last post was filled with pictures, this one with words.
Soundtrack – Have I Told You Lately (Rod Stewart), Dear Bobby (Yellowcard; I’ve posted this before and like last time I am going to warn you that it always makes me cry), Sweet and Low (Augustana), Here Comes the Sun (The Beatles), Save Me San Fransisco (Train), More Time (Needtobreathe), Us Against the World (Coldplay), Have Your Way (Britt Nicole)
*****
I’ll start by quoting my father, it snowed in Northwestern Ohio for the first time today (just missing its Christmas deadline), meaning today was the first time it was necessary to break out our winter coats.
“I love getting into my winter coat for the first time, you get to see what your life was like a year ago. An old pack of Marlboro’s, wrappers, (reaches hand into pocket and laughs) for me it’s just the stuffing from an old dog toy and a blue rubber glove!”
His words inspired me to look through my own coat pockets – the bulletin from my grandpa’s funeral. I had almost forgotten how hard the beginning of 2011 was for me. Even before his sudden February death and the freak blizzard it accompanied, I was truly depressed. Before January, I never understood depression, how people could sink so low, so far away from happiness – then I did. Before then, I had no sympathy for those who moped around in self-pity, I now see that people don’t choose to become that way.
I’m a dancer. It is one of my true passions, an art that I devote over sixteen studio hours to weekly. Dance has always been there for me and it acts as my stress relief in this very hectic world. At least that was the case until January. I had been experiencing extreme ankle pains since three months prior (during cheer season). Turns out I had been dancing on a broken ankle for over a year. The doctor casted up to my knee immediately: January, the height of my dancing season, ripped right out from beneath my feet. As team captain I still went to every practice, every game, watching and envying (more than I’d like to admit) my teammates. I was angry at the world and a very unpleasant person to be around. I cried myself to sleep every night. I don’t think anyone understood how much this messed me up – not even my parents: see I hide things. I’m a people pleaser, a person who hates to bring my problems to others, to make them said or angry. I kept everything inside, withdrew from the world and sulked in sweats; underarms bruised from metal crutches.
Eventually the cast came off, and I was freed from the torture that was physical therapy (I am not a fan of doctors, dentists or anyone else of the likes). Just when I felt like things may be looking up – everything came crashing down. My grandfather passed a few short weeks after they cut my cast. He wasn’t well, but the infection killed him before they even knew he was sick. I will never forget that day, they week that followed – so incredibly long, but short at the same time. I will never forget coming home with my grandma; grandpa’s thing exactly where he left them, glass of water, book open on the counter. I will never forget seeing him living for the last time; I drug one of my best friends over to their home before a game – I had to, it’s a feeling I can’t explain, but I know I heard the voice of God that day. I will never forget the last time I saw him – cold. The worst was when they closed the casket, when they carried him out the churches big doors, into a blizzard, the back of a hearse, knowing I’d never see him again. I couldn’t take my eyes off him during the showing, memorizing every last detail, knowing I would never again see him in this life. If it was up to me we would all still be sitting in that room, him laying peacefully in the corner. It felt okay, right.
We had always been close, my grandparents, my mom and her three sisters, my dad and three uncles, my six cousins and I, but this experience brought us closer together than we’d ever been before. This is my silver lining, I love them all with everything I have. When we’re together we are whole. We now miss a small piece, but we’ve found a way to function still.
And so I began to heal, to become my happy self once again. It was a long, slow process and I’d slip every once and a while, but not nearly as far as before. With spring came the thawing of the ground, and in turn my soul. Blossoms reminded me of life, God reminded me that this is merely a pit-stop, that I am being selfish in my mourning. It was finally time for new, and I was more than ready to embrace it.
My oldest cousin (on my mothers side) got married in May – I was a bridesmaid. Weddings are a beautiful thing, a thing that will always hold a special place in my heart. Standing outside, beneath a tent, wet from rain, I felt God’s presence, I knew he hadn’t abandoned this family. I was wrong to ever think he had.
After spring came summer, and a girl revived into who she once was. Happy, healthy and ready to conquer the world. I am still this girl today.
I don’t particularly care for birthdays, not a huge fan of the new year either. It all has to due with the passage of time – the fact I have no control over it. And here I sit, staring down 2012, a big year for Kaitlyn Jo Smith. I graduate from high-school, then I turn eighteen. I start college, begin to live out the life God’s planned for me. It’s scary and exciting all at the same time. I have so many gifts and dreams as bright as the stars, I am more than ready to see that they are all put to good use. I been through a lot, yet have found a way to survive. I know that plenty more struggles will come my way, but this time I’m ready, this time I know that God is standing to my right. Things are a lot less scary once you’ve realized that.
For me 2011 has been a year of growth, of mourning and discovery. It has been a year of heartache, joy and pain. Mostly 2011 made me see a strength I didn’t know I had. It has giving me the courage to face my future, to be bold in my faith, to follow my dreams. So here’s to 2012, may it be a year of accomplishment, of victory and of joy. May in more importantly be a year of family, of friends and of God.
Until Infinity 