The year my mother died Christmas lost its sparkle. I was 26 and had 2 kids and a dysfunctional marriage. No amount of tinsel could bring me back to life.
Of course every year I would put on a happy face for my kids and we did all the lovely Christmasy things together. They helped me revive some of the things I’d lost.
Every year when Christmas approaches I get a kind of dread. I’m not able to plan anything because for me it’s a moveable feast.
My first stop though is Woolies to get my mince pies, they are like a panacea for the pain. The sweetness seeps into the places where heartbreak exists. You see my mother baked Christmas cake and mince pies every year and for years after her death, I couldn’t eat them. So you see I’ve come a long way and can tuck into Christmas fare with the best of them.
My mother loved Christmas with all its frivolity and glitzy splendor, but after the decorations were taken down she would get really depressed. I think way back then I made a secret vow that I would never allow myself to get caught up in the hype of yuletide.
So I set myself up early not to be disappointed. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had some beautiful Christmases but some really sad ones too. Nowadays I don’t have any expectations of big family gatherings or turkey dinners. When your children fly the coop they have other commitments, and traditions of their own. I’m okay with that and I know we will happily settle into a quiet Christmas.
Thankfully living near the beach where the weather is warm, one can join the happy throngs on Christmas day and be part of something wonderful.
I seem to crave simplicity these days, it’s easier on my heart. Just an acceptance of what is, a little Christmas pudding and brandy butter to dull the pain and maybe a little dress up. (I hope the dog is up for it)
So if you see me around all green and Grinch-like, don’t worry too much or feel sad for me because the village of Whoville usually has my back and I promise not to steal Christmas.
So watch this space, anything is possible…
AllysoAlly 