Christmas tree switches on too many memories
There’s always talk about the right time to put up the Christmas tree. But for me, there’ll never be a right time.
When my husband was in hospital for his last Christmas, he’d sometimes point in the air and say, “Tree”.
Even though his Alzheimer’s was very progressed, he was reminding me we needed to put it up.
Colin and I always decorated it together. Each year I’d lose my rag untangling the lights and Col would patiently and perfectly sort them.
But after we’d finished decorating the tree we’d find one bulb broken so I’d have to take everything off again while Colin dashed to Currys for a new set. Eventually, we bought a fancy fibre optic tree and Colin loved it.
But when he reminded me about the tree in hospital, I said: “I’ll put up the tree when you come home.”
He never came home so it wouldn’t feel right to see that tree again.
Instead I’ll put a sentimental selection of decorations up in the house, including a plain glass bauble my mum bought me when my dad had a good week at the steel works.
Unpacking the decorations collected over the years always flooded me with memories: the paper ones the kids made, the 70s tinsel that’s now out of fashion.
But after I lost Colin I gave all the rest of our decorations to charity in the hope the happiness my family enjoyed in Christmases past will be passed on.
pointed and I know I’d be warmly welcomed into their homes which will be full of joy.
My legs aren’t so clever at the moment and if I go anywhere, I’ll have to pretend everything’s rosy.
Staying on my own means I can put my feet up on the sofa when I’m in pain and don’t need to put on an act.
People my age don’t like to feel a
burden and it’s sometimes hard for us to ask for help. But I haven’t decided to have Christmas alone to be a martyr – it really is what I’d like.
I will FaceTime my family and friends, feel no guilt for wearing my dressing gown all day, indulge in a sentimental little cry at James Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life then I’ll drift off into a contented snooze.
Looking out for elderly people at Christmas is a kind thing to do.
But listening to their genuine wishes, even if you don’t like the idea of them being alone, is also thoughtful.
Doctors said the Queen missed the Remembrance Day service as she had a sprained back.
She’s the type of lady who would have crawled to that ceremony if she could because she’s so dutiful and respectful.
I’m not doubting the doctors’ words. But anyone who’s widowed might believe something else had prevented the Queen attending that day. I think she was fretting about Prince Philip as his loss will have taken a good few months to sink in.
No wonder she’s finding it hard to face the world alone because he was always beside her.