Lockdown Christmas: How Are You Feeling?

I recently posted a picture on my Instagram of two of my friends and I posing with some shot glasses in my old kitchen in The Netherlands. The photo was taken a few weeks after burying my father and enduring two funerals in two different continents. As I explained in my caption, I was exhausted, most likely still in shock and probably had no idea the way my grief was going to unravel in the months to come.

As I look at that picture now, I am struck with a sense of nostalgia. You see, this picture was taken in our last family home before everything changed. This was the house that saw many of my adolescent escapades, it witnessed the first steps of unadulterated drunkenness in my teen years and overheard horrific tales of lost innocence. It held beautiful memories of birthdays past, graduations and everything in between… the tears, the laughs, the arguments – those walls knew a lot.

Looking at the picture closely, I also notice how busy our background is; pots, pans, ladles, cups, knives, part of a bin… honestly it would make a great image for ‘spot the difference’. But in all its chaos, that kitchen helped produced so much good food over the years. It is the place where my Mum worked her magic over all the festive holidays, it was where she could thrive as the hostess she loved to be; the care-giver, bringer of joy through the filling of bellies – it was her safe haven.

But now, we have left that all behind. From the moment the funerals were over, we started packing. Mum could not handle the thought of being in that house, with those memories, without my dad – and could you blame her? I’m not sure I could handle going back there either, if I’m honest. Suffice it to say, no Christmas since leaving that home has ever been the same, and it’s been 5 years.

As you can imagine, the first year was riddled with grief and discomfort – hitting that initial milestone isn’t one any family suffering bereavement wants to get to, but somehow you do and it passes. Then the rest follow and you try your best to find your new normal, form new traditions but there is always an element that is bittersweet because you remember how it used to be.

Christmases in our old home were always bustling. Mum would cook an extra pot of food because there was a 90% chance a new group of people would show up unannounced and dad would have enough bottles stored to inebriate the entire neighbourhood. But this is the African way; the door is always open, there will always be food and drink for you. My parents took that to heart, especially during the holidays.

So you can imagine the change in atmosphere when the family home is gone, you’ve moved to a new country and all this without one of the integral parts of the equation – my Dad. Christmases since have been very quiet.

Now, personally I don’t think there is anything wrong with a chilled Christmas. I think we can lay a lot of pressure on ourselves to host the perfect evening and to make it ‘one to remember’, but the truth is it doesn’t need to be complicated, overly energetic or spectacular. The original Christmas, if you believe in it, was pretty simple too. Nevertheless, as the 25th of December rolls by every year, the hole that my Dad left behind is still very palpable and evident. It makes me wonder if we will ever not feel it.

I confess, all these thoughts came from one photo. This one shot made me realise that though my Christmases have been comparatively quiet and, in some respects, sombre the last few years, this year everyone is finding themselves in a similar position – or as a friend put it: “same storm, different boats”, love that analogy!

The majority of the UK is now in full lockdown over the Christmas days which means more than two households won’t be able to gather, and in our case, we can only see one side of the family for Christmas day, they can’t even stay over. As a result, I know some people have opted to not see any side of the family at all, just to be extra cautious. Naturally we are sad we can’t see both sets of parents/ family members, but the difference to this year and last year for us won’t be as noticeable as it would for another family.

Like I wrote in my post, a lot of us will be feeling the strain, hurt and grief that this Covid-19 induced lockdown has brought about. Grief of not being able to see or be with everyone we love, strain of being stuck at home again, hurt because maybe you feel you’re failing… and if you can relate to any of these then that is normal and you are definitely not alone!

But as it is this special time of year, I would like to end on a hopeful note. Within my post, I encourage my followers to consider leaning on friends or family, even from a distance (like I am with the two women in the photo). Perhaps, there is someone you can offload your fears to on the phone or via text, someone to distract you with some comedy or remind you of all the good that is around you but you just can’t see right now.

Or, another helpful tip I heard from a podcast was to ask yourself what feeling you would get by doing what you love over Christmas – is it warmth, happiness, peace? Once you know what that feeling is, is there another way you can get that right now? So, rather than focussing on what you can’t do, have a look at what is around you and maybe you can find that same feeling through what’s available at the moment.

It’s not easy, but we will get through this one day at a time.

I would love to hear any more tips from you! Get in touch on IG: keshiamf_

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