Dawn Picken's wish for Christmas has changed from those when she was a child. Photo / Getty Images
Dawn Picken's wish for Christmas has changed from those when she was a child. Photo / Getty Images
Dawn Picken's wish for Christmas has changed from those when she was a child. Photo / Getty Images GettyImages-1093994058.JPG By Dawn Picken
OPINION
What's on your Christmas list this year? Mine is very different to when I was a kid, when it spanned a page (or two) and included books, Barbie dolls and video games.
My list has been pared to 'I hope I make it to Boxing Day with my faculties intact,' and, 'I wish not to catch Covid at the family Christmas dinner.' Because I'm in the United States (visiting a loved one who has battled cancer this year), I have an excellent chance of getting sick myself. That's because the virus is rampant in the US and Omicron is spreading rapidly.
Holidays are like a game of mind Twister. I bend my brain marvelling at the beauty of the season, whether it's lights glowing in the 5pm darkness in Ohio, or the deep crimson of pohutukawa blossoms in Aotearoa. At the same time, I loop backwards to remember who and what I've lost.
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The kids and I went shopping yesterday at a mall I used to visit as a child. Today it is gloomier and tackier than I recalled, but it seemed to satisfy Miss 17 and Master 16's desire to buy tchotchkes as Christmas gifts and for themselves.
I stood alone for several minutes in one trinket shop, a place displaying decorations, like stockings with pictures of cartoon characters, and tree ornaments. An entire section held ornaments you could personalise. There were couples and family ornaments ranging from two adults (even families in penguin form) to entire flocks of children.
The season can be a time of overindulging while under-committing to the kind of soulful conversation that feeds our need for connection and understanding. Photo / Getty Images
Do I select a family that includes my late husband? He is already present in the holiday flotsam we brought from home: Miss 17 insisted on packing the stocking that bears his name. Would I be too sad buying a representation of Sean when he can't be with us?
I looked for an ornament that might depict me and the kids instead. But among the snowmen, gingerbread and other people, I failed to find a solo adult with children. Only couples, because that is our idealised version of family, even if it's not the truth for many of us.
The season is merry and bright and sad and grey. It can be a time of overindulging in food, drink and shopping while under-committing to the kind of soulful conversation that feeds our need for connection and understanding.
My wish for you is to be able to have those conversations.
My wish for you is to be heard.
My wish is that no one says, 'You should be over it by now,' whatever 'it' is. The uncomfortable emotions some people think you should relegate to the dustbin are exactly the kind of feelings you need to acknowledge and express.
My wish for you - and this is a special one - is deep, unbroken sleep tonight, and every night. Good sleep is the bedrock of life and the holy grail of grievers.
Holidays are like a game of mind Twister. Photo / Getty Images
One expert I heard on a podcast recently suggested grieving by appointment, like having a date with a box of tissues. I'm not sure I can force a 4pm cry, but I like the idea of booking a spot in my diary for remembrance, rather than trying to stuff every minute with merriment or productivity.
My friends in the US and at home in New Zealand have lost parents, partners, pets, jobs, their health and a general sense that they controlled their lives. Covid - and its latest version, Omicron - has relegated many milestones such as graduations, weddings and funerals to moving images on a screen.
We are excellent at sucking it up and moving on. But in our haste to vanquish the uncomfortable, we often plaster over wounds haphazardly rather than taking time to examine them before stitching them up.
It is okay to grieve the big losses. It is okay to mourn the small losses, too: cancelled holidays, celebrations that have shifted from in-person to virtual, and times with loved ones that Covid has claimed.
My wish is that you have time and space these holidays not only to celebrate your victories but also to process what you've lost, which may include the sense you understand where you're going, and why you're headed there.
Covid has forced us to make sacrifices we never imagined. Combined with life's usual calamities, it's a lot.
I'm writing on the shortest day of the year in the Northern hemisphere. We have plenty of nighttime hours to light a candle and sit with whatever comes.
My wish for you is peace in any increment you can manage, whether it's sitting alone for 15 minutes or walking for an hour on the beach.
