Well, It’s Christmas

OK, so it’s Christmas Eve. For me, Christmas is anything but a celebration. Having said that, this year I have surprised myself by the amount of Christmassy things I have done. First, there was the Folded Fabric Christmas Tree, above. Then along came the Crazy Patchwork Christmas Tree.

Incredibly, I took part in a Secret Santa organised by Corinne Lapierre.

Next came the ‘interestingly shaped’ stockings for my Sweetie Pie, my Treasure and my Precious:

And I mustn’t forget the felt Christmas tree decoration:

I am pleased that I have managed to achieve all of the above, but, what I am most proud of is that I have managed to listen to Silent Night sung by Sinead O’Connor, without breaking down in floods of tears. 

Picture this: Christmas Eve 2001, I am sitting in my husband’s hospital room, holding his hand whilst he drifts in and out of consciousness. It is said that hearing is the last thing to go so I have brought in a radio in order that we can listen to Classic FM, as opera is his first love. But… I have completely forgotten that it is Christmas so, of course, they are playing carols. Then I hear Silent Night being sung by Sinead O’Connor. It has been my favourite carol since I was a small child but now it brings back memories of a certain Christmas that we shared, and creates new, piercingly painful, memories.

My husband died in my arms a few hours later and, since then Christmas has been so very hard to cope with. Whenever I heard any version of Silent Night I would be crying. However I had not heard this version from that night, until it played in a restaurant I was sitting in recently. It was painful, but bearable, and it showed me that I am able to begin looking at Christmas in a less painful light.

I have shared all of the above not for sympathy – I neither want nor need it – but to show how amazing it is that I am able to say the following:

I wish you all a wonderful Christmas.


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