Yesterday, a friend posted on FaceBook that she was not buying her children presents this year and there was a photo of a letter from her daughter which included the words ‘Worst Christmas Ever’.
None of their three children believe in Santa and they’re not that wealthy but the comments she received amazed me. I was quite taken aback by the amount of people who thought that Christmas was about the presents and that these children were missing out on something special.
So this post was going to be my usual rant about the waste that is Christmas but I may as well re-post last Christmas’ post. I rant every year and people just think I’m some sort of loony who makes her sons suffer for her principles.
My sons are just fine. I asked them what they wanted for Christmas and the response was that they would buy themselves new iPods because they had plenty of pocket money. I did point out that that was not the purpose of a commercial Christmas but they didn’t seem to care. They bought their iPods last week and have been playing them ever since. Their father bought them books which they have already read. I put money in their bank accounts and bought them some science sets and chocolate coins. So we do buy them presents.
This year, I’ve invited my family to my house for lunch. Everyone will bring something to share at the table. There will be 17 people at my house; only four will be missing (three in London and one in a nursing home). That’s not bad for a family which includes people who do not speak to each other unless they have to. We’ll see how it goes.
Tonight, we’ll eat fideua (a type of seafood paella but with pasta instead of rice).
In the morning, we’ll go to the cemetery with flowers and chocolate coins for Clea. We will wish her a merry Christmas because she loved Christmas. It will be our seventh Christmas without her. It doesn’t get any easier.
I miss her with all my heart.
PS. I leave you with a song written by a woman I know in Singapore. She wrote the music after I told her the story of Clea. It’s called ‘Seis’ (six) because she couldn’t remember my daughter’s name but she remembered that Clea was six when she died. Thank you Yann Lih.