Let me start by saying that throughout my adult life I've suffered from a trend where, just as things start to look really good for me, everything goes to shit. It's bred a sort of fear of success into me, because during any moment of celebration I always suspect that someone might be sneaking up behind me with a two-by-four or something similar. True to form, just as things were finally coming together 2007 gave me a good, solid kick in the nuts.

As happy as I was at the start of the year, what with having got hitched and all, I knew that The Wife and I had the stress of immigration hoops and attorney fees ahead. Once I got locked into the US while my application went through various stages of bureaucratic stasis things only got worse in that respect. The deadline for attorney fees was always getting closer, but the freedom of the green card didn't seem to follow suit. I missed my family. My brother was too far away to visit, my sister never goes anywhere, and mom was too sick to visit often.

I did manage to get to Canada in August (using my 'parole') when my brother was going to be visiting mom. It wasn't a great visit. I knew I had a border hassle ahead of me, and mom just wasn't up to entertaining. I stayed overnight but didn't get much useful sleep as I was stressing about things. In the morning I hugged what was left of mom and begged her to look after herself.

I hugged her like it was going to be the last chance I ever got, not that she was supposed to be deathly ill, but she felt like death. I had a wave of certainty wash over me, one that was very much like what I felt the last time I saw my dad. He was taken apart by cancer though, and mom was just supposed to be a bit under the weather. Still, I told her to take care of herself. I told her that I wasn't ready to lose her.

When I got home after the expected border hassle, four hours in institutional-green purgatory, three letters were waiting in the mailbox. Notices that the green cards were approved and in the process of being mailed. I called mom as soon as I got in the door, and we made plans for a (Canadian) Thanksgiving together.

Then came Saturday, September 15th. We were tired and trying to sleep in. We heard the phone ring a couple of times, and we ignored it. The first m-i-l likes to call her grandkids early on Saturday mornings, because she's a massive pain in the ass. When we got fed up with the ringing and got out of bed to get the phone, the caller ID history was full of mom's phone number, and my brother's as well. His home phone and his cell phone. We'd slept through a lot of ringing.

What came next has already been discussed and doesn't need any coverage here, today.

The rest of the year was shaded by September 15th. We managed to put a hell of a Christmas together for ourselves and the kids, but I was only able to think of what I'd lost.

Dad, the mind betraying the body. A tumor killing his brain, slowly but surely taking little bits of him away from us.

Denise, killed by the chemo before the cancer could finish the job. Wracked with unbearable pain for the last months of her life.

Mom, the opposite of Dad. The mind as sharp as ever, as sharp as any I've encountered, even dulled by painkillers as it often was.

And so it was, when I should have been happy and celebrating, I was often overwhelmed by my losses. I hadn't shed a tear for Dad in a long time, but this Christmas it was all fresh again. It felt like he died this year, the weight of holding him up while he struggled to remember how to drink always tiring my arms.

Christmas sucked, because 2007 sucked. Seriously, 2007 can just go straight to hell. The things that made the year worth living are still with me in 2008, so I need nothing that last year could have to offer me. Straight. To. Hell.

The Wife and I put an offer in on a house yesterday, before noon on the first day of the year. I can't think of a better way to start 2008 off in the right direction.