Happy New Year

Number of empty champagne bottles abandoned on the side of the road: 4
Number of days left of vacation: 2
In the Attic: Am I hating the holidays too much?

Last night was New Year's Eve. We spent it at Kerry Park in Seattle. On a normal day, one would have a pretty good view of the Space Needle from this park. But when there are hundreds of other people there for the same reason you are, the view gets trimmed down quite a bit. I spent the festivities with Binta up on my shoulders, while I watched the fireworks display through some guy's camera phone, being held in the air, directly in front of my view.

At about 15 minutes to midnight, I suddenly remembered why I don't care so much for New Year's Eve. The horns, the loud boisterous talk, and the stumbling of happy drunk people can be very irritating when you yourself have not been drinking. At one point, a quickly-moving, excited drunk tripped over the front tire of Binta's jogging stroller, causing it to pop out of place. Working on repairing it in the dark with other unstable people surrounding me was precarious work. And it pissed me off.

I feel like I'm nothing but a holiday curmudgeon lately. Looking back at my other posts, I see I'm finding something to gripe about with nearly every holiday tradition this year. The only thing that kept me observing any holiday traditions this year was knowing that Binta deserved to have nice holidays. But my heart was not in any of them. I would have been more than fine with pulling the covers up over my head and hibernating until January 9. (Skipping, of course, birthdays for me and Derek).

I found myself thinking of Derek last night. Specifically, last time I viewed the fireworks from Kerry Park. Derek had just arrived in Seattle after watching his best friend die on Christmas Day, only hours before they were to climb on a plane and spend several days here in Seattle. They had big plans for being in downtown Seattle on New Year's Eve. "It's The Millenium, Tiff," Derek kept telling me, like it was impossible for him to understand why I would choose to do anything less than wild and radical on this significant date. I remember being so worried about the boys' agenda for New Year's, as I was anticipating mass panic and chaos due to the Y2K hype. (Remember how the media built that up?) I didn't think it was a good idea for Derek and Brad to be down in Seattle, caught up in all of the excitement and action. And danger.

I didn't know I needed to worry instead about them enjoying some jumps in Brad's jeep up behind Dad's house. That when Derek was through taking pictures of Marty and Brad racing around in the jeep, Derek would wave his arm to signal the boys to return to pick him up, as they had that plane to catch. I didn't know that Brad would turn the wheel too sharply, sending the jeep over in a roll, and he would be thrown from the vehicle, directly underneath the roll bars. Derek would later tell me about images that were permanently imprinted in his memory of seeing Brad pinned there, and how it felt to stand by and watch him die.

So six days later, it was New Year's Eve. Or "The Millenium," as Derek had referred to it. I was going to a small party with some friends who lived on Queen Anne hill. I knew it would be pretty quiet and in control, far enough removed from "the action" of the city. Derek was sitting on the couch when my friends arrived, and I pleaded for him to come with us. I couldn't bear the thought of my little brother sitting there, staring at the TV, all alone on New Year's Eve while the rest of the world was out drinking, blowing horns, and welcoming the turn of the century.

But what I didn't realize, is that Derek couldn't bear the thought of celebrating a new year without Brad. He couldn't bear the thought of celebrating anything, for that matter. Sitting on the couch staring blankly at the TV, going outside for an occasional cigarette, and falling asleep well before midnight was the only way he could cope with the holiday.

But now I understand all too well. And if I had had the choice, that's probably what I would have chosen last night. It felt wrong last year to cheer in 2005, knowing I was leaving Derek behind in 2004. And I felt the same emotions surging last night as I watched 2006 approach. Realizing that an entire year, all of 2005, had come and gone, and Derek had not seen one day of it.