GRIEF II: Christmas

Christmas is a great time for keeping busy. It can be a whirl of sensory and social distractions, almost whether you want it to be or not - and the moments I slid out of that festive mist were few. One came at a pre-Christmas birthday party, as arrivals drifted in, clocked the absence of my mum and recalibrated themselves accordingly. You could see some of them remember, wonder what to say and then perhaps acknowledge it in some way, be that through a look or a word, which is much nicer than ignoring it altogether. It's not like pretending it didn't happen makes the feeling go away - and it happened to them, too. So it's good for both of you.

Overall, Christmas was more weird than sad. There were a couple of moments I caught myself staring flatly out of windows, mostly during what people took to describing as the 'merryneum' - that limbo between Christmas and New Year's. Generally, I was less enthusiastic about the season, had less interest in sending Christmas cards - a grand total of one, to someone in New Zealand - or, at least, felt less guilty about not doing so. Sometimes, that feeling was paired with a surge of anger that became difficult to pick apart from the general emotional cauldron. You want to be sure of the cause. Is it grief? What's on the telly? The way that person just cut you off when you were trying to say something? Just an accumulation of random stuff, like fluff in a dryer? I think anger should be expressed because the opposite is so singularly unhealthy - there's a difference between putting your emotions onto someone and dealing with something genuine - but the manner is important. Without wishing to be dramatic, a tendency that grief can be felt to encourage, you want to avoid collateral damage or, more simply, pissing people off.

As for the arriving guests, it's those sudden, noted absences that often do it. My mum used to make these incredibly buttery, crumbly mince pies; they weren't there anymore (there were none in the freezer - I checked). The absence of her in general changed the whole social dynamic with other members of the family and, in a way, Christmas became more conversational because she wasn't there to lead so much of the chatting (she was a great and unstoppable talker). It makes you look again, and value, what's left. So I prefer to try to think of it as a change rather than a loss. Although it obviously is.