Every breath, renewal.

So much to do; so little done. - Cecil Rhodes, Last Words

I'm always amazed when another year has so speedily passed me by, wishing I'd done so much more of some things and a lot less of others. Still, this is the time when resolutions are made, and hope revives that, yes, this may be the year that changes everything. Will I fall victim to the vices that prevented my accomplishing the previous year's goals? Only time can tell.

While some make out huge to-do lists of things that will change during the coming year and found themselves overwhelmed with the actions required for the habits meant to be created, I, on the other hand, find myself either bored by a single resolution or have chosen the one thing that I was really incapable of doing (or unwilling to do the things that would fulfill said resolution).

So what of this year?

I've decided to take each day as it comes with its own set of goals, and finally free myself from the burdens that have plagued me in past resolutions. New Year's Day is marking a renewal, yes. As does every morning. As does every minute. As does every breath.

It goes on.

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. - Robert Frost

Thirteen years ago this morning, my father died. I had just turned seventeen; my sister was fifteen. And he was only fifty.

I think anyone who has experienced the loss of a parent at an early age can agree: even if you were normal before, whether you had a happy childhood or not, whether this parent was a daily influence or someone there only occasionally, you no longer are or will ever be normal.

Childhood grief aside, it's strange to be on that side of the event. No one really knows what to say. And you don't know how to respond. Even now, when I attend funerals, I feel that awkwardness because there really isn't anything that can be said or done that will remedy the situation. Things just are what they are now.

I can feel for anyone who has lost someone special in their life. I've been there. In those moments, when everything seems to be moving so fast, and you're quietly trying to keep up, and the grief drags you down like a boulder strapped to your feet, you are in a space by yourself. Even when that grief is shared with another person. Even if that grief is shared with thousands or millions.

And then, something funny happens. Time happens.

That boulder loses its weight over time. You catch up with the rest of the world. And yes, you miss the one you've lost. But there is an appreciation for the moment you have right now, and the moment you once had, and the moment that will be. Everything is in a different light when the shades of that seemingly insurmountable grief begins to wane.

In honor of the time that has passed, I'd like to mark the things that Dad missed, but didn't really.

• I graduated high school.
• Princess Diana died.
• I went to college - got my AA (I may eventually finish that BA - I'm sure Dad's a little upset about that.)
• Shannon graduated high school.
• The world human population passed the six billion mark.
• Shannon moved to MN.
• 9/11 happened.
• My grandma, Dad's mom died.
• Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings hit the theaters.
• Shannon married Josh. (Grandpa walked her down the aisle.)
• Grandpa died.
• The tsunami in the Indian Ocean.
  
• Pope John Paul II died and was succeeded by Benedict XVI.
• Hurricane Katrina.
  
• I started a business.
• Shannon had a baby (that came out looking just like her grandpa).
  
• Life kept moving on.

That grief will never be a distant memory. It will always live right here, in my heart. It will only grow a little more comfortable, maybe even a little comforting. It means that I loved him very much. And I have faith that we will meet again.

Dad, we miss you.

No napping here.

There is no point at which you can say, "Well, I'm successful now. I might as well take a nap." - Carrie Fisher

Yesterday, I commented on Roger Federer, and asked what it is that drives apart the champions of the world and the rest of humanity.

The determination that I saw yesterday, and that I continue to see in the rest of the "successful" bunch, goes hand in hand with constant action, constant improvement, constant reinvention.

I think I've always wondered, is there a point at which people truly retire? Do people just stop once they've reached what they designate as "success"?

The answer is an emphatic "no".

Those who become legends, much like Michael Jackson, whose memorial touched me today, never stop searching, never stop working, never stop dreaming for bigger or better. They know that even if things are great at the moment, they can always get better, forgetting the possibility of failure as they do so.

What if we all forget about the destination, instead looking only at the journey, and decide that was what we really wanted after all?

Winter... ugh.

Every mile is two in winter. ~George Herbert

Today is Groundhog Day. Yes, we gather together in seeking knowledge of the immediate future, in hopes that our winter is to be short, and our spring imminent.

That said, I must say that it is quite a drag waiting for the weather to get warmer, and the snow to dissipate and give way to grass (brown as it will be, no doubt). Everything takes longer in the winter: leaving the house (shoveling snow and brushing off/scraping the windshield of the car), running errands (factoring in the slower and slippery driving of everyone in front of you on the road), even walking requires more care for fear of slipping and falling.

I wish I could say that I was one of those brave people who love skiing or ice skating (the ice has gotten harder the older I get). Don't get me wrong, I like the changing of the seasons. I like snuggling up in warm blankets in front of a crackling fire. But as the seasons change, the renewal is as important to me as anything that becomes possible with that season. It's another beginning, another start.

Spring cleaning, fresh warm air, the melting of the ice and snow, the appearance of blooms, and the song of birds are welcome. Oh, Phil, may your shadow elude you today.
________________________________________________________

This is Women's Heart Week. Friday is National Wear Red Day, a way to raise awareness for women's heart disease. This is the NUMBER ONE killer of women, so I cannot stress the importance of being well-informed and living a healthy lifestyle.

To learn more about this day and women's heart health in general, go to http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/hearttruth/.