I’ve had a non-Christmas to match my non-birthday earlier this month (then very unwell with Covid; now still completely flattened though germ-free) but am too tired to mind missing celebrating.
Daddy & my stepmother wanted the day to themselves as they were told about a week ago her cancer had metastasised: this will almost certainly be her last Christmas. Given she was told in October surgery had removed it all… Next year it will be 30 years since my father was suddenly widowed (& I will step out past mummy, older, somehow, ridiculously, than she ever got to be) & it is horrific to think of him going through that grief again. Even with the time to prepare; even with a wife in her seventies. (And to be clear, I don’t want my stepmother to die for her own sake/full stop).
Being somewhere else today would have - however much I love the people I was with - rammed home the impending loss. Being curled up at home with the cats & sleeping through most of the day made it just another Christmas I was too ill for, which isn’t a huge deal. Mass is available from all over the place now, not just St Peter’s; & catch-up Christmases can be more fun that real ones sometimes.
All the cat snuggles; getting to talk to lots of my favourite humans but without wobbling into tears & upsetting them; & seeing that my niece was enchanted by her very-hard-to-get present? On balance I am happy, despite the sensation of being in a snow globe of sorrows: while I just have to keep remembering to cast lumos, I can’t help but feel a deluminator would really come in handy…
💐🍫🍰🫖☕️🍷☀️🌈🍀🥰
to all those who are, for whatever struggling at the moment
Those of you who are grieving: you do, I promise, get through it. Not over it, but through. Surviving it so it becomes less raw - you become less raw - & endurable becomes enjoyable. Hang in there.