This Christmas blog is another of my ‘mad mother’ ramblings and done particularly with Shane’s friends and family in mind.
For those of you who think of us, feel sorry for us, and are there for us; I know that my obsession with corrupt Lundbeck and ‘dodgy’ psychiatrists, must make it seem like we live a miserable existence. That is sometimes true but not always, and increasingly, some days are happy days. I love my son as much as I have always loved him; that’s it, nothing to add to that. Thank goodness for my ‘mad’ family, who (never a family to pussyfoot around the elephant in the room), tell it like it is, whether we like it or not, and keep us grounded.
Stuff that makes me happy…
This year is the third year without Shane. The fourth Christmas where we don’t have to wait for him to come home from handing out dinners to the homeless of Dublin. Instead we are jumping into the freezing cold Irish waters doing a charity swim in his honour (actually, if he was here now, I’d strangle him myself!). The feeling of dread which now accompanies the word ‘Christmas’, is not because Shane is not around but because it reminds me that I have to do ‘that’ swim. I can imagine him laughing at us while we struggle to get the courage to jump in and then struggle to get dressed, with fingers and toes blue and numb from the cold. Even his poor granny braves the freezing Irish seas in honour of her much loved grandchild. His grandad, although he loved him just as much, will have the blazing fire lit and sausages on the pan, but will claim a dicky heart once a year (on Christmas day). His uncles, aunts, cousins, along with his younger brothers, will all brave the freezing waters on Christmas day in remembrance of Shane. Tony uses the excuse that he wouldn’t want to embarrass himself with an inflatable ring…HA!
We are/were Christmas lovers, from the gaudy decorations, the multiple tacky santas and the funny presents; Christmas could never come soon enough! I will always miss the ‘Mac’ lipstick and my yearly notebook from Shane, but wherever he is, I’m quite sure he’s okay. Maybe there is no reason for that feeling but it’s there all the same. He appears to me in my dreams, the same Shane, always laughing, and probably as per usual, not with me but at me. That makes me happy. I will even miss him waking the younger ones up at 2 AM, because he was more excited than they were!
We went to see Santa in Bridgewater and I couldn’t believe it; he wasn’t an impersonator but was the real Santa. Henry and Lucy were fascinated, he gave them lots of time and assured them that their presents were already in his sack. He said he used to live near Redcross (where we live) and named lots of people that they both knew. This, of course, must have been before he emigrated to the North Pole.
Liam, their older brother, came with us because the two smaller ones insisted, so he stood at the sideline, hoping nobody he knew would spot him at Santa. Well, Lucy (5) decided to tell Santa that Liam had said a ‘bold word’ when we were in Berlin. Santa was not impressed and told Liam so! He wagged his finger and told him he was putting him in his ‘naughty boy’ notebook. It was good to see Liam going purple while we all laughed, including the crowd in the ‘very large’ queue. Shane would have loved it, in particular Liam’s discomfort!
That was a good day.
Santa still has the power to make me happy!