Is Christmas really the happiest time of year?
Christmas. Every year we count down the days with chocolate behind tiny doors, watch the same old Christmas movies as the year before - to the point where I think I could recite Nativity word for word - and eat so much food that, in hindsight, it becomes sheer gluttony. Every year we lie awake dreaming of the gifts that will be under the beloved tree on the big morning waiting for us making all our problems disappear in a heartbeat. And every year without a doubt I hear the words Christmas is the happiest time of year by that old crooner, it`s the most wonderful time of the year reverberating on a loop in shops and supermarkets, inescapable in its joyous sentiment, demanding we enjoy ourselves. And while Paul McCartney is simply having a wonderful Christmas Time and Wizzard wishes it could be Christmas every day I suppress an urge to scream.
As a child Christmas was indeed the highlight of my year. Who could forget it? The most magical time of year when things were so easy, days on end spent looking forward to Santa`s visit, and the only real worry was convincing myself that I had been good all year. But as I got older, I began to realize that Christmas is relentless for some, especially those dealing with the loss of a loved one during the festive period. There`s no hiding from it. Decorations start going up in November, so every year I have to suffer a two-month-long countdown to the anniversary of my papa`s death making winter feel like a month of Sundays.
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For me, Christmas began to lose its magical feeling on the day that my papa died: Christmas Day 2015. The man who I thought would be there to see me pass my driving test, watch me get married, and meet his grandchildren, was taken from my life in what felt like a flash. I still remember the night like it was yesterday. Leaving my gran and papa`s house while they stood at the door as we exchanged our goodbyes completely unaware that this would be the last time I ever got to hear his laugh, the last time I ever got to see his smile, and the last time I ever got to hug him.
I remember watching from my car window as an ambulance, pale under the streetlamps, blue lights blazing in time with the jagged noise of the screeching siren that shattered the silence of the thick blanket of snow flew past with aggressive speed, yet thinking nothing of it because there was no way it could be heading towards my gran and papa`s house, right? I remember the phone call, the loud obnoxious ring that tore through the air sucking the happiness out of Christmas like a black hole. I felt my stomach plummeting down a roller coaster when my mum turned round, too hesitant to be normal. When she spoke her voice trailed slowly like her words were unwilling to take flight. There was a deep sadness in her eyes as she muttered the words that made my whole world come shattering down in a matter of seconds.
I`ve never been particularly good at hiding my emotions, but at that moment, I wanted to stay strong for my mum, for my dad, for everyone but once that first tear broke free the rest followed in an unbroken stream. One of the worst things about losing someone is that no matter how much you try to remember, the memories start to fade. Every year at Christmas my stomach ties in knots as I find myself asking Did I say I love you? Did I hug him tight enough? Did I make sure that he knew how much he meant to me?
The worst thing about my papa dying on the happiest day of the year is that I almost resent him for it. The past few years whenever I find myself starting to enjoy it, an instant wave of guilt hits me like a truck making me feel a pit in my stomach every time I catch myself laughing or smiling. Don`t get me wrong, there`s no good time to lose a family member, I completely understand that and I certainly don`t think I`m entitled to grieve any more than anyone else who has suffered the loss of a family member just because I papa died on Christmas Day - but it does obscure your emotions when you lose someone on a such significant date because it alters your whole perception of what it stands for and leaves you questioning is it really the happiest time of year?
The thing about grief is that it varies from day to day. It`s like snow. Some days it only snows a little bit. You might end up being late for school. Your friends and teachers notice but it's not a big deal. On other days the snow might be deeper. You spend hours helping to shovel the snow but it doesn`t seem to clear. You miss school and your body aches so badly that you go back to sleep. You wake up to a mountain of missed calls and texts from people wondering where you are, but you don`t call them back because you are still too tired. Most of them don`t experience the same amount of snow where they live so they don`t understand. They just assume you're too lazy. Sometimes it`s a fully-fledged snowstorm. When you open your door your met with a wall of snow. The electricity flickers on and off so you go to bed with all of your clothes on to try and keep in the warmth. You haven`t washed for days now, but how could you? It`s too cold to get out of bed and do anything apart from sleep. The thing is when it snows all the time it drains you. You get fed up with being cold every day. You get fed up with hurting all the time from shoveling, but if you don`t shovel on light days it ends up becoming something much bigger and unmanageable. Grief is the exact same.
So, as it stands, now that a few years have passed I`m beginning to believe that Christmas could in fact be the Happiest time of year. I`m proud to say that the snow has started to clear up and even though on some days it still might snow, it`s only a few inches, which, yes, still affects me but more importantly I have learned to manage it now. Christmas day will forever be tainted by my papa`s death, and it will never go back to how it used to be because you can`t schedule grief. Some Christmases will be filled with joy while others will feel like the hardest thing I`ve ever had to endure but what I`ve learned is acceptance. To accept that there`s nothing I can do to change what happened, to accept that spending Christmas with my family will hurt at times, and, most importantly, to accept that despite what happened I am still extremely lucky to have a family to celebrate with and who will help me through the tough times.
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