Dear Richard,
My husband died shortly after Christmas last year. It wasn’t Covid-19 but the pressures on the NHS arising from the pandemic did impact on the care he received: it was not a peaceful or a dignified end, and the funeral was a dismal affair.
This year, I would of course be happy to see my family at Christmas, but they live quite a distance away and the only practical way to do this would be to go and stay, which would mean being caught up in a big, noisy family Christmas for three days. I dearly love my grandchildren but in my current fragile state I slightly dread their relentless excitement; equally, I don’t want my inevitably somewhat subdued presence to cramp anyone’s style.
My children are being very kind and they insist that they can tailor their traditional rituals around me; they are also worried about my being home alone. But I can’t seem to make them understand that, this year at least, this is what I would prefer to do.
I can’t seem to see a compromise between going and being immersed in jollity (or feeling that I am stifling it by my presence) and staying at home with my thoughts and memories, and causing worry and perhaps offence.
I suspect I shall end up going – can you suggest specific ways we can find some sort of middle ground on the day?
– Ruth, Bucks
Dear Ruth,
A You lost your husband less than a year ago so in my book, it’s you that calls all the shots this Christmas. You’ve thought it through and you’ve decided in your heart of hearts that a three-day family knees-up is just not for you this year, however much the festivities are toned down.
As you say, if you could just pop over mid-morning for the present-opening, stay for lunch, and slip home after the Christmas pudding, you could probably manage it. But not three days straight, and I don’t blame you.
Of course it’s touching and heart-warming that your family are so keen to see you this Christmas, and want to uphold you and care for you and are genuinely willing to alter their plans to suit you. But even so, you feel overwhelmed by the prospect. I would respectfully suggest that they now accept that the last thing you need is to be worrying about the effect you may be having on everyone around you.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, if the fates allow,” Judy Garland sang. Well, the fates may allow you a Christmas of sorts this year, Ruth, but it must be on your own terms. Do what your heart is telling you to do. Stay quietly at home, reflect, and raise a glass to your dear husband. There’ll be other Christmases.
