In December of 1999, my first husband was diagnosed with uterine cancer. On December 28th, he took a turn for the worse, and by December 31st, was in a coma. The ICU had strict visiting policies, so I could not sit at his bedside around the clock, and had no choice, really, but to go home at night and wait.
That was the big Y2K New Year's Eve, and everyone's excitement was in overdrive. I, on the other hand, was in a situation I think similar in some ways to one faced by the parent of a missing child, expecting the outcome to be grim, but holding onto a very thin strand of hope, and waiting for a phone call that I prayed would never come. And while the rest of the world was giddy with anticipation of the new millenium, I was crushed beneath the dread of a future without my loved one, who in my case was my husband.
Friends and relatives offered to come spend the evening with me. Others thought it would be good for me to get out and see the fireworks on the riverfront. Well, no way in hell was I going to subject myself to the torture of being surrounded by revelers, but I was grateful to those who took my son out so he could forget for awhile and have some fun, and I could be spared having to put on a good face for him.
BUT, had I relented and allowed visitors to come over, there would have been food and more than likely, beer and wine. That's just how we do it around here. The evening would've started quietly, but soon there would've been chatter, and eventually even laughter. To outsiders looking in, it would've looked like a party. What they actually would have seen is simply people behaving naturally. But I couldn't have any of it. Guess I wanted to be dead, too, that night. I was older than Billie, though. At 42, I knew my decision to stay home alone was best for everyone. Ten years earlier, I might've allowed myself to be talked into having company and ended up more miserable pretending to feel good for everyone else's sake.
So, after sharing that long story, with as much disdain as I have for Billie Dunn, I just can't make a big deal out of the alleged NYE "party". Even if others were having a bit of fun, we don't know what Billie was feeling that night. At any rate, and I could be wrong (what's that wonderful line about "my WTF factor knows no limits"?), I seriously doubt Billie made a conscious decision to throw a party and celebrate. As for Shawn, well that's a whole different matter.
artyguy: + :drink:
