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I’ve had some difficult Decembers in the past, and it doesn’t
seem to be related to whether or not it’s an OFF Christmas. I know this because
I’ve just been reading earlier Decembers on my blog. Last year, for example, was
an ON Christmas, and yet my heart was so dark that when I was decorating the
tree I was telling recalcitrant baubles to fuck
off. The world news was getting me down, and the lack of light, but
mostly (I realise now) it was my sadness over Mary’s fast failing health.
This year she is gone, and yesterday one of her lovely daughters
sent me this photo from the park:
It made me cry.
But earlier I had walked in my study and found this year’s hand
made Christmas card from the man who hates Christmas:
I love it.
The only Christmas we have spent apart in our 45 years was an
OFF Christmas a few years ago. My big brother invited me to go and celebrate
Christmas with him and his family and I thought it might be the solution to the
Hepworth Christmas dilemma. The Christmas was lovely but I was miserable. It
didn’t seem right to be away from home at Christmas.
And this reminds me of a conversation I had with Isaac some time
ago when Dave and I went on holiday to Northumberland for three weeks, and Isaac
said “That’s the longest time you’ve ever been away from home,” and I said
without thinking: “But I wasn’t away from home. Dave was with me.”
3 comments:
Thank you for a heartwarming post, Sue. It's full of love ...
I've read it three times and every read strikes me with your honesty. You are one of the bravest people I know. LRH
Thank you, Little Red Hen, but I don't feel brave.
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