It was real. It was fun. It was not real fun.

I decided to keep a low social media profile the last few days of 2012. I was afraid to speak too loudly about what a spectacularly tragic and awful year we were wrapping up, lest 2012 overhear me and give me one more spiteful jolt before passing into the blue.

But now that it's over, I can say...2012, you sucked. Like, hard. I am pretty sure you were my worst year ever, even beating out 2003, the year I went through chemo and radiation, in your relentless suckitude.

Yet the year was not a complete disaster. If I erased the whole thing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind -style I wouldn't remember the first time my kid made finals at a swim meet, or the weekend we spent seeing Zac Brown Band out under the stars, or the pride I felt when UK won the championship. Though that went down the same night my mom died, so...yeah, maybe this whole year should just get wiped clean from my memory.

New years are new beginnings, though. Or so I hear. I woke up on New Year's Day sick with the cold my daughter and husband had had the week before, so it really felt less like a new start and more like a continuation of mild suffering. A way for 2012 to say, "You're not rid of me yet, sucka!" Nothing really feels different yet about 2013 yet, but I am telling myself to be positive, take extra vitamin C, and look toward a future that should be, if not bright, at least one shade less dark.

I haven't made a New Year's resolution in several years, but I need to take charge and do my part to make this a better year. So here's my big resolution for 2013, the one thing I think I can do that will make this a happier one for all of us:

Attend fewer funerals. I need your help here, loved ones: look both ways before crossing the street, wear your seat belt, designate a driver, watch your step, take your narcotics only as prescribed, don't assume that shooting pain on the left side of your chest is just indigestion, keep your firearms in a safe and secure location, just say no to skydiving and bungee jumping, and keep air travel to a minimum. Oh, and don't visit the Holy Land for vacation. And try not to investigate creepy basement noises without backup. Did I also mention to avoid illicit affairs with high-powered political figures?

See, it's quite simple, really. If I can keep everyone I love healthy and happy, I will be healthy and happy. This is largely out of my hands, and I know this deep down, but allow me a few moments to think that if I could convince everyone I love to just drive a little slower, eat a little better, visit the doctor a little more often, and basically enclose themselves in a big-ass sheet of bubble wrap for the next twelve months, it will all be okay.

I promise I will do the same. Let's make 2013 the year that we follow the sage wisdom of that modern-day prophet and visionary, Jerry Springer:

Take care of yourself. And each other.