Twistmas
Christmas 2024 seemed keen to remind us that there’s no light without darkness…
I woke around 7am on Christmas Day and saw a notification that my granddad’s wife had tried to call me via Facebook Messenger at 6am.
Unusual, I thought, and made a mental note to mention it to Mummy Rose later – but the thought was soon lost in the fog of morning routine, which now includes dropping a pill past Pippa’s reluctant jaws one hour before every breakfast.
Later, in the middle of Ermma’s delicious Christmas dinner, one of our trustee landlords sent a message of festive greetings – coupled with an announcement that they’d be popping in on Boxing Day.
Unusual, I thought – but I guess that’s a hazard of celebrating Christmas in a House of heritage.
Luckily, this announcement wasn’t going to interrupt our celebrations too much, as Ermma and I were being collected by Mum and DadDad Sutcliffe before 7:30 on Boxing Day morning for their Christmas gift to us: a 3-night stay in Disneyland Paris!
Since Pepys House is on a flood plane, though, I was determined not to let heavy rain let us come back to a waterlogged disaster – so I spent the last day of Advent clearing the drains before our time away.
Advent is all about the preparation for Christmas, after all…
Nothing, though, had prepared me for our Christmas video call with Mummy Rose. It should have done. The missed call from granddad’s wife. Reading about Sam’s Christmas. The trustee’s message pointing out that, while it may be Christmas, life continues as normal.
Or, in this case, continues to end.
“I have some news,” Mummy said.
“Oh?” I replied.
“Ronnie’s dead.”
I froze, and felt Ermma do the same. My brother Ronnie had misheard or misunderstood something I said over 10 years ago, and subsequently refused to see or speak to me that entire decade. He’d since moved to Finland, and I’d often hoped to visit him and attempt a reconciliation – but busyness and/or funds had always prevented me.
And now I’d lost my chance forever? I didn’t know what to think. “Dead?” I uttered.
“Yes,” Mum replied. “Granddad Ronnie.”
A wave of relief hit me. Of course: Ronnie was named after our granddad on our mum’s side.
This was quickly followed by another wave of grief – this time for Granddad Ron. But that grief was compounded by guilt over the fact I’d just been feeling relief that he’d died instead of someone else…
He’d died at 2am that very morning, which explained why his wife had tried calling me so early. Mum said she hadn’t told my siblings yet because she didn’t want to spoil their Christmas Day – but knowing we were going away for a few days, she didn’t want us learning much later than everyone else.
Even then, I knew the real reason Mum was telling us: she needed to share her feelings with someone. We went on to talk about how it was a shock despite his gradual decline through dementia, and Mum’s regrets at not having gone to see him as recently as she could have.
I wanted so much to be there for Mum. But I was still reeling from the double shock of losing a brother first, then realising I hadn’t lost a brother but a granddad instead – a granddad who I also hadn’t seen as recently as I could have.
So in the end, we followed in Sam’s example: we turned our attentions to the incessant flow of Christmas joys. For Mum, that was to be a meal with my sisters the next day. For Ermma and me, that was our trip to Disneyland.
I couldn’t fully shake the melancholy. It didn’t help that the Park operators had removed all the joy from my favourite ride: the Rock’N’Rollercoaster’s stirring music and bright coloured lights had been replaced by music-less scenes of Iron Man blasting through the dim light of distant space…
But my Sutcliffe family were wonderful company, and we also took in some shows performed by incredibly acrobatic dancers. On the Eurostar home, Mum and DadDad described one of those shows as their holiday highlight, giving me the added boost of feeling pleased for recommending it – in all their previous trips, they’d never watched a Disneyland stage show before.
Plus, we gave a little nod to Sam while there, lunching at the fast food chain named after his Lord and cousin, the Earl of Sandwich!
Eventually, thinking about Granddad while wandering around Disneyland, I realised how my love of theme parks and music is part of my inheritance from him. His enthusiasm for good times and parties had infected and remained with me.
This prompted me to message Mum partway through, to find out how her Christmas meal with the sisters had gone.
“Delicious!” she replied, and sent me a photo as evidence.
Thank you, Granddad, I thought, for sharing your life with us.
Yes, this Christmas had shown that there’s no light without darkness. But it had also emphasised why this has to be: because darkness adds definition to light, which allows us to really truthfully see each other, be with each other, and learn from each other.
And so I ended this week mahoosively grateful to Granddad, Mummy Rose, my Sutcliffe family, and Ermma and our kittens, all of whom had revealed the greatest gift we can ever give each other at Christmastime:
Ourselves.
Here’s wishing you the mahoosively merriest of Christmasses.
Let’s share tales again soon. Ciao for niao…
$;-)