What does Christmas mean to me this year? As most people’s celebrations are arranged by a pandemic, mine is shaped by loss and struggle and having to grip a reality that I wasn’t prepared for. Oh no, not the least of which is being ripped into living and cracked like an egg. And while the details of my loss are gruesome, I must admit that I am experiencing something unexpected this Christmas season.
I have not pulled out the delicate and sparkling Christmas decorations that are reminders of travels and years now literally left forgotten. I am fortunate that I still have remnants of last Christmas on my doorstep and mantle—they seemed too heavy to remove after my loss, and they slipped from sight, as though they should be there all year. Guess I am the epitome of a Country and Western song.
One thing I am feeling is gratitude, and there are many on the list that deserve my praise. Friends that have held my hand and walked with me through inclement weather, both literally and figuratively. Friends that have laughed and cried with me, commiserated with me, and supplied me with unique and delightful avenues of revenge to carry out in my late-night fantasies.
And the crazy friends so full of life that it is hard not to be infected with their disease (as opposed to the Covid one).
And the unique people that have reached out to help me, and have become dear friends and sources of understanding and compassion.
My sister, who has worn the brunt of my emotional collapse, and from afar (UK) has reached out every day, since February 23—she is a saint, and being in lock-down since the beginning of the pandemic, has still listened to my woes on a daily basis. And there are days where it must be difficult.
And then there’s me. I didn’t think I could do it. I did not feel as though I could care for my property, deal with all the legalities, take care of the house, look after two aging dogs or even survive after 20 years of living a life I thought I would go out in. No, the house is not as clean as it used to be, but I did (with a bit of help) get all the outside work done this year.
Split from stern to stem; that’s what I feel like, but deep inside me is a growing joy, a personal best so to speak. A cyclist that rode 2000 plus km this year, a meditation practitioner, a singer (very poor one, but a singer none-the-less). A yoga enthusiast and a cook; yes, a cook. I am learning French and reading poetry and the classics. And I don’t have the leisure time I had a year ago, but that relaxation time is now golden moments that I can cherish.
Yes, there has been shit; pure shit, but I’m learning to embrace it all and to risk everything knowing that a great new adventure awaits out there somewhere.
This Christmas will be definitely different. I will at times be unhappy and I will feel lonely, but I know that I am blessed beyond what I felt last Christmas when I frolicked in what I believed to be my life of abundance. And maybe the miracle of Christmas will be in the forgiveness I will learn, and as I grow into accepting that which I cannot change, I will realize how much I can change. To everyone who has reached out to me this year; thank you from the bottom of my heart. And to those that have surprised me with their own humanity and their crazy love of life, I will say cheers. Next year’s goal; live in joy!
I like the grit you display. You talk of loss but a determined recovery. Enjoyed the piece.