So starts my first Christmas on my own ever…

I’m home alone (ok, with the dog) and I have just decorated the Christmas tree.

It’s the first real Christmas tree that I’ve ever had in my own home – previously they’ve all been plastic. Only when I was in my teens did my mum start buying real trees. She loved Christmas and made my childhood Christmases magic though hard work and sacrifice.

I’ve tried to keep that magic alive every year since I left home. I have always made sure that a tree went up and the house was decorated – usually the last Saturday before Christmas because my husband didn’t much like the decorations (dust-makers), although I think he liked them when they were up.

I’ve had shitty Christmases in the past when my husband was in his dark place – when he would drink unceasingly, chain-smoke, and sometimes be dangerous to be around. Those years I would still make sure that Christmas happened. I would always buy the provisions, and if my husband was ill on Christmas Day, I would prepare and cook everything anyway.

For a long time though, if he was ill on Christmas Day I would be angry and hurt that “Christmas was ruined”, until I learnt that it wasn’t really; I could still do festive things on my own, and we could do the day later when he was better. I actually had two Christmases those years!

There is only one year where the wheels well and truly fell off. The year my mum died.

That year I had the call from my dad the Friday before Christmas that mum wasn’t going to make it … and the family spent Christmas in the hospital afraid to sleep in case we missed her passing.

My husband was at home looking after the dog, but because I’d had to go to the hospital before that last weekend before Christmas, there was nothing to eat in the house – not even the normal weekly shop.

When I called my husband on Christmas Day from the hospital, just after I’d watched Strictly Come Dancing holding my mother’s hand and describing everything I saw, despite not knowing if she heard me (she never woke up again after Christmas eve), he told me that he was cold and hungry and sounded very pissed off. I’m afraid that I still hold hurt from that even six years later.

Mum died on the 27th December.

That was the only year that Christmas didn’t happen.

After that I continued to make sure that Christmas happened because I know that she would be devastated if she thought that she’d ruined Christmas for me – her favourite time of the year.

It would have been very easy to fall into depression and never do Christmas again – don’t get me wrong, each year I am ripped apart by the conflicting feelings of grief and joy.

I tried to explain this to my husband: “so you’re still doing Christmas for your mum?” He asked.

No. I do it for me – for us.

Now I just do it for me.

My brother has asked if I’d like to spend Christmas with him and the boys this year, bless him!

I’ve already asked my husband if he’d like to spend it with me so that he’s not alone.

But, to tell the truth, I am looking forward to spending Christmas by myself this year.

Peace on Earth … by making sure that I don’t have to deal with humans for the day!

Just me and the dog.

Next year, maybe I’ll go to my brother’s – after all, the boys won’t be little for ever.

Maybe I’ll see friends.

Or maybe I’ll do some volunteering.

Or perhaps I’ll spend it on my own again.

But whatever I decide, there will be a tree and a quiet remembering of the “glories of Christmases long ago”.