So last night my mom and dad expressed concern about us gathering for Christmas, and also New Years Day dinner that Nick and I have planned at our place. Since my parents already had covid, they are extra concerned. My mom keeps saying “I dont want to end up back in that hospital.” She feels they were incredibly lucky to make it out of covid alive the first time, considering their age, and that they wouldnt be so lucky a second time. We are discussing things and leaning toward not gathering for Christmas. Its not a large gathering. Just me, Nick, my parents, my brother, and his two kids; my niece and nephew. But its the whole six degrees of seperation thing that is scary. The kids are in school, at least part time in person, and so what if they pick up something there and pass it on to my parents. Or what if I somehow become exposed from our weekly grocery trips or touching the pump at the gas station or …or…. whatever else… because now Im getting paranoid and even though Im extremely careful, numbers are rising both in our state and in the country, and its getting to the point again where staying home whenever possible seems like the smartest thing.
I know there will be other holidays and other years, and I know its most important that we keep each other safe and dont do anything that would put ourselves or anyone else at risk. I know all of this. But I just feel the need to vent about how much our lives have been turned upside down and for how LONG because of this virus. It just all feels so endless. Im running out of money, patience, and energy. I miss life. I miss having things to look forward to. I miss hugging my family. Traveling. Most of all, I will miss Christmas this year, because we will most likely decide not to do it and to stay home. It reminds me of my early years of grief, and how for the first three years after Don’s death, I literally could not DO Christmas. It was just too hard. Too sad. Too much. Not without him here. I know even back then, that I didnt want to end up being one of those people who hates Christmas because my husband died, so I purposely stayed away from it until I felt ready and excited to celebrate it again. That happened around year 4, where I was actually authentically excited again about Christmas, like my old self, pre-loss. And now, I cant help but think about how long it took me to fall in love with Christmas again, and now this year it wont be happening.
Its the right thing to do. Its safe. Thats all that matters. But it sucks. And its sad. And I just needed to say it out loud, or type it here in this widowed blog where I wont be judged for feeling disappointed about no Christmas. I feel like one of those animated characters in “Rudolph the Red Nosede Reindeer”, when Santa comes out and announces to everyone: “Im sorry, but Christmas is cancelled this year.”
And yet, I know it could be so much worse. And, Im trying to remind myself of what my grief counselor said to me all those years ago when I was too sad and too raw to do Christmas, and I told her I didnt want to be a part of the holiday. She said: “So don’t be. You dont have kids, so theres really no reason to fake your way through this one. Just pretend its not Christmas. Stay away from it for as long as you need, so that when you come back, you will be ecstatic about it. Christmas will still be there for you, whenever you are ready again.”
It will still be there. And right now, we just have to keep taking good care of one another, and I guess that means cancelling Christmas. Thanks for listening