Hope for a New Year

Our year begins utterly thankful and lit with hope. Although the road has been and will continue to be bumpy, Patrick has made steady improvement since his return home this past July. As I look back over the past six months, I am hopeful that Patrick will create a contentment-filled life.

I wanted to take a moment to give you an example. Mary’s birthday lands between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It is part of a triumvirate of special holidays that mark the end of the year in our household. Last year, however, the triumvirate lost its luster. Patrick had been on the road for nine months. What’s worse, after Thanksgiving we lost our ability to see where Patrick was spending money: i.e., marking whether he was eating and finding shelter. (Patrick had shared access to his joint banking account with me for many years. And since, he told us that his wallet was stolen that week.)

At the time, we had no idea what had happened or where he might have gone. Mary’s birthday came and we both hoped that somehow this was the day he might call. He could not. Consequently, both Mary’s birthday and Christmas were solemn occasions in 2023. (He finally did call about a month later, thank God!)

In contrast, this December, Patrick was home, recovering, and asked us if we’d like to go to the movies for Mary’s birthday. Since Mary and I rarely venture forth separately, the prospect of a movie date at Patrick’s urging was exciting. But no! The invitation was even better. “Maybe Amanda could go with us,” he asked. Not only did everyone enjoy that movie together, but Patrick and I saw another movie later in the month!

I’m not suggesting that such outings (hiking, the movies) haven’t been carefully crafted. They have been for now. But, as the voices loosen their hold on him, Patrick can attempt ever more natural and challenging social engagements. We did keep our hiking going while the weather held out, but the two of us are both a bit driven under by the winter rain. And the voices have been constant and imposing until recently. When they are most forceful, we hear them, out loud, through Patrick. Almost exclusively, they demand he remove himself from the board.

Despite some down times, Patrick’s overall outlook has improved to the point where Mary and I were also able to enjoy an evening out ourselves on New Year’s Eve. We have received an invitation to a private New Year’s Eve party since moving to the Puget Sound twenty years ago. Patrick proposed that we go and he and Amanda attempt to drown out the fireworks with the dog on their laps, eating popcorn, and watching “The 10th Kingdom” (a fantasy mini-series that originally aired on NBC back in 2000).

There in our friend’s private home, at a late meal surrounded by people we’ve known for many years, we sat next to a mother whose son was the same age as Patrick and dealing with similar health conditions. We sympathized with her common struggle and wondered at how we sat together wishing in a new year. We did though. We toasted and kissed and said our goodbyes and came home grateful that Patrick was committed to his recovery program, living with family, and battling those pernicious voices until their din dims to a haze.