It’s all over. The decorations are mostly taken down and dismantled [though not packed away yet] and the mince pies are eaten. Christmas, our last first Christmas, has passed.
We lost Excalibur to the fields beyond the Rainbow Bridge and simultaneously tried to celebrate Baby Hero’s first Christmas time as we have for Jensen and Lyoto. Most of my plans never were executed, or put into action haphazardly, and so now I have a stock of items ready for next year instead.
Our elves put in a lacklustre performance because of our situation – except for a few instances, like when the Pyjama Elves bought the boys new PJs [Elf on the Shelf ones].
It feels so wrong to say it was a merry Christmas – because Christmas Day, with all of the excitement and hustling, and the joy on our boys’ faces [not least because they had Granny and Grandad here], really was amazing. I cooked my first Christmas dinner solo, on our new range cooker, and what needed to be done was done.
Yet I felt so almost evil, having fun when I’d held my fur baby Excalibur in my arms the day before Christmas Eve, as we made the decision to let him leave us and his pain behind. I don’t think the memory will ever not haunt me. It’s on a loop in my head, and breaks my heart over and over.
Instead of resolutions this year as I planned to make, I have wishes, hopes and dreams. Perhaps they’re wishes that will never be granted, hopes that are futile and dreams that will never come true – but the responsibility to make things happen is lifted from me. I’m going to take this year easy, and be kind to myself and my family. Happy is appreciating where you are and what you have now, not what you hope to be and have.
My word for this year is healing.