Once, Twice

Today is our second Christmas without Jen, and it's not any easiest than the first. I find the lead-up to the event actually more difficult than the day itself. Of course that's fairly normal for Christmas, since the effort of buying presents goes on well in advance, but for me there's the "White Queen" factor - the stress in anticipation. This year I've found myself completely lacking in inspiration, barely looking forward to the event, only wanting to get through it. Some of that is the aftermath of surviving an intensely busy term (with afterschool activities - sport or music - five nights a week, plus two sports on Saturday morning).

Last year it was our "turn" to be at home for Christmas, and I wanted as well to be able to cope on our own terms without Jen. The period after Christmas was enlivened by the prospect of visits from a number of old friends, some from overseas whom I hadn't seen for months or years. This year we are with Jen's family, which is excellent but emphasises Jen's absence in a different way. "When we are all together, we are not all together". There is the implicit comparison with two years ago, when Jen was in the early part of second line chemo, and there was still some prospect of another Christmas together.

As a single friend of mine once remarked, being single means that there's no-one to whom you come first, even if there are many people who love you. Christmas and birthdays underline that point -- Jen was someone who loved finding the right present, sometimes even going on out on a limb in guessing what I'd like. Being married gave us our own independent centre, a nucleus around which we built our own traditions, borrowing from our family backgrounds but also choosing our own focus. The boys and I continue that tradition of ours, but it feels less certain - events yet unknown could change what we do, and perhaps the centre of gravity edges back towards our families.

Unlike the anniversary of Jen's death, say, which mattered to me but has no resonance in the outside world, Christmas is an external event that inevitably becomes a point to measure against. How far have we come since Jen's death? At times the three of us seem to be stuck in the same set of patterns and reactions, with the weekly ups and downs but a very weak sense of evolution. Even the day itself asks the question: is this the shape of time to come? Have we set the pattern for the next few years?