Christmas this year was not something I looked forward to. It was there. I couldn't avoid it. I couldn't spend it in bed with my head buried under the duvet. I have children to think of so I had to make an effort for their sakes. I dutifully put up the tree and other decorations. I shopped for food and drink and presents, which I then wrapped in shiny gift paper with ribbons and bows. I even managed to hold a party. I smiled and I even laughed. My smile was my mask, shielding the hurt and sorrow I felt inside.
This was my first Christmas without my sister. The first Christmas I was not able to speak to her, to exchange gifts with her, to compare shopping lists with. To tell each other how much we love and miss each other.
I have spent 2 or 3 fantastic Christmases with Katy since she moved to USA 14 years ago. My family and I would travel out a week before the big day and Katy and I did the food and present shopping together and of course the tree. I recall one memorable Christmas we went out to buy the tree and made the mistake of taking our children with us. We ended up buying by far the largest tree available at the store, which we then spent many hysterically giggling minutes trying to stuff it into Katy's car - burying the children amongst the branches!
We would go to the Phoenix Zoo Lights event - the most spectacular and beautiful lit zoo including the wonderful 'dancing palm trees'. Boxing day would be spent travelling North up to the Grand Canyon, giving us the opportunity to play in the snow among the pine trees.
But it is our childhood Christmases that stick in my head most. When we were little, Katy and I shared a bedroom. Christmas Eve we would excitedly go to bed and would take ages to get to sleep, trying to stay awake long enough to catch Father Christmas delivering our presents. We never managed it. Then before Dawn broke we would awaken and I still remember the thrill of feeling the weight of my Christmas stocking, now full, on the end of my bed. One of us would whisper ' are you awake?' and we would attempt to be quiet while we emptied out stockings. They would always contain a satsuma and some nuts among other goodies.
Our parents were strict about present opening. Breakfast had to be eaten and cleared away before the whole family would then gather around the Christmas tree and our mother would hand out one present at a time. This meant that the present opening would last for ages - right up until lunch. Christmas lunch would be a veritable feast consisting of two different joints of meat with all the trimmings. Crackers would be pulled and silly hats donned. Then the afternoon would be spent playing with our new toys and games together.
Normal family Christmas stuff. Just like millions of other people around the world. I wish we had had more of them. I feel so sad that I won't ever have another Christmas with Katy. I realise the first year is always the hardest - each anniversary a painful reminder to be endured. The first Christmas, birthday, etc.
With the New Year nearly upon us I am dreading New Years Eve. For the past few years I have tried to be optimistic saying ' this year will be better', but sadly this has not been the case. I'm finding it very hard to summon any optimism for 2013. I'm not going to say it will be better. I don't want to tempt fate. I do not feel like going out to celebrate the end of 2012 or the beginning of 2013. I shall grin and bear it, as I did Christmas. I shall put on my mask.
The hurt and sorrow aren't lessening, I am just getting better at keeping it inside. And as time goes on I am hoping that slowly and gradually, the pretence will become the reality. I am strong. I can do this.
