The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...?

This Christmas is a very odd one.  It's the first one without Dad.  It has crept up on me because I only went back to work after about four months on sick leave two weeks before, so hadn't been out and about noticing all the Christmas lights, decorations and build-up begin.

On Saturday, Mum, Big Sis, Bro-in-Law and I went to a Christmas sing-a-long concert at the Royal Albert Hall.  I was feeling decidedly unfestive when we arrived.  But it ended up being good fun and made me feel a little bit more Christmassy than I had been.  Mum had a voucher for dinner at the Hilton, so we went there afterwards and had a nice dinner in the Hawaiian-themed restaurant.  The fruit cocktails were lovely, I would  love to go there another time and have some of the rum ones!  After the meal, we went home and I threw some stuff into a bag so I could go back with Mum to hers.  That's when I found out that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't going to Mum's for Christmas.

My family has never made a huge fuss over Christmas, but we've always at least had a gathering and lunch or dinner together.  It's become notably less and less important in recent years, which I think is a shame.  I really dislike how commercial Christmas has become and how irrelevant half of the things people worry about are.  But I like the fact that we have one day where everything stops, shops are closed and people are encouraged to get together, spend time in each other's company, watch old films and fun TV, have a nice meal as a family/group and buy each other gifts if they so wish to.  This year, Mum said that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't obliged to come, partly because Big Sis has been spending time with Mum and they also went away to Lanzarote for a week a couple of weeks ago, and she thought she needed to spend some time with her husband!  That's the benefit of being legally bound to another.  Us singletons don't get a free pass to spend time alone, or with friends.

Basically, today has been a non-day, highlighted by the fact that everyone else is talking about their gatherings and Christmas dinners and presents and so on.  Today I have sat on the sofa since 11am, watching TV.  Mum has been sat in the armchair next to me doing the same.  I've intermittently been on my laptop, her on her iPad.  We haven't spoken all that much.  We don't often want to watch the same things, although I don't mind some of the things she puts on.  I felt like going upstairs to read or watch things online, but it felt a bit rude.  There were no presents, no special meal.  There are no Christmas decorations up.  Everything just feels empty and dead.  Now and then either or both of us would be crying, but not really acknowledging it in the other person.

I have retreated into my shell again, not talking to people because it's easier to hold things in and deal with them on my own than open up and not be understood.  Mum frequently makes comments about losing a spouse being much worse and more intense than losing a parent.  While I agree that is true to a degree, it feels like she has a monopoly on grief.  Every now and then she says the same things about how she feels, her own guilt, her own 'if onlys', etc.  I want to listen and reassure her, but it feels like a broken record.  I don't have enough emotional energy of my own to tell her it's OK.  Going over what we could have done differently doesn't help me in my own grieving process.  It's personal to her, as a wife, as a nurse, as my Dad's full-time carer for 18 months.  I want to remember the positive things about my Dad, the good memories I have.  Mum says she keeps having to remember how he was at the end, almost to reassure her that it was the right time for him to die, that he was unwell, weak and uncomfortable.  I had already accepted that my Dad was going to die.  His existence as a fraction of the human being he was made me feel uncomfortable and upset.  It still hurt so much when he died, but I can't deny the part of me that was relieved that his suffering and also my Mum's non-stop effort with caring had come to an end.  Part of my Mum's grief is occasionally going over what more she could have done, which is very specific to her.  I can't imagine dealing with the loss of someone who was your companion for 31 years.  But I know what it's like to lose my father of 30 years and it's painful.  Hypothetically, my Mum could find another companion.  But I can't find a new father.  I may find a new father figure, I may have a father-in-law some day, but the father who raised me, whose DNA makes up my own, whose character and influence moulded me into who I am today, that can't be replaced.

I feel like now my Dad has gone, I've lost an ally.  The family dynamic has changed.  My Mum and Big Sis have got more and more alike in recent years.  It's only now that Dad has passed away that I feel like a third wheel at times.  I liked similar things to my Dad.  I think I'm probably a bit more cynical, more realistic/negative, less religious, less strong in faith - all things my Dad was in some ways.  I frequently feel like I'm the odd one out in my family now.  It's something I never expected, probably because I never noticed it before, because Dad was always there to balance things out.

Today, I've felt more and more sad as the day has gone on.  It's the first time since immediately after my Dad died that I've really felt like crying and have done so.  I've felt pangs of jealousy at people who are having traditional Christmas family get-togethers.  I've felt resentful of people who are moaning about things they could probably be a little more grateful for.  I've felt isolated, lonely and misunderstood.  I've felt loss twice over - the loss of my Dad, and the loss of Samson, who I could always go to when I felt sad, even if I didn't know the reason.  I've felt lost and even more sad because finding that kind of understanding in a person is relatively uncommon.  Building up that sort of trust, where I'd feel comfortable enough to talk to someone when I feel low, takes time.  I fear I won't find it again.  Or more likely, that I won't trust enough again to open up sufficiently to develop that kind of relationship.  It just feels like no-one understands.  I have hardly any appetite at the moment.  I'm having one meal and a snack a day.  I have no money again and only got paid five days ago.  There just never seems to be an end to this perpetual cycle of sadness at the moment.

It feels like as I get older, birthdays and Christmas just highlight all my sadness even more.  I think this is part of why I want to settle down, find someone who is my partner for life, who is with me against the world, and start my own family.  So I can start my own traditions, have my own celebrations, do things in a way that will make me happy.  I'm fed up of being the reliable, go-to person for my family to rely on to go along with what they want, because I'm too emotionally retarded to be able to say no.  I'm fed up of being someone who people come to for advice, when they are feeling down or in need of reassurance, when they need someone to be there, but not being able to support me in my own times of sadness.  This is what happens when you get used to holding your own feelings back and putting on your 'strong' face for the world.  Even those closest to you can't tell the difference between the mask and your real face anymore.  You can't let the barriers down even when you want to.