Raise a Glass

Yes I will raise a glass as many others will (noisily or quietly) to those who have shaped us as people, whether here or gone before.

I think it’s wonderful to make a toast on a special occasion such as a wedding or birthday but can’t bring myself to do so about something sad. It just doesn’t seem right to me.

In the years he was a widower, every Christmas my dear father would send my sister and I a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Even if he was spending Christmas with me, the flowers came via the florist.

Since he died, some 15 years ago, now, my DD always brings me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and gives them to me saying, 'These are from (her) grandpa'

We'll be raising a glass tomorrow too. Two brothers who died many years ago, my DF who died just after last Christmas, Mr A's parents, and a few friends. It's a bit sad because they are no longer here but also happy because they were such a big part of our lives and it's nice to remember them and talk about them.

I have just poured myself a well deserved gin and tonic, so I'll raise a glass to Christmases past and all those who have gone before. We had a Boxing Day party for all of my mother's family, aunts, uncles and cousins, not forgetting my lovely grandparents.

I think, ever since being a tiny tot, there's been an element of sadness abut Christmas, a bravery, unease, a forced jollity - and a wish to get it all over with, move on, get back to 'normal' (whatever that is).

Perhaps I detected the stress, effort and insincerity behind my parents' apparent joyful celebrations? I, in turn, had the strain of being happy, grateful, helpful, smart - and polite. I didn't feel safe at all. There was a persistent dread of things unravelling at any time.

I think I understand it now.

My parents didn't want to put in all that effort, just felt entirely obligated to. The decoration of the house and tree, the making of cakes, pies, puddings, all that shopping etc.

That urge to make it perfect, far better than any before. Seeing friends and relatives in quick succession, cooking marathons to ensure a packed and groaning table. The alcohol didn't help - but seemed essential too. The cracks in their dodgy relationship began to show, the seething resentment of doing more than one's fair share.

Yes, it's inevitable to think of those now missing, dead and gone. Mum must have missed her mother, who died when I was five. Dad's parents were gone before I was born.

As we get older, the 'missing list' grows ever longer. I think of them all - can't help it - acknowledge the thought. but don't raise a glass. I deliberately fail to remember any 'would have been' birthdays or ages, anniversaries, dates of departure etc - unless they, annoyingly, pop into my mind.

That was back then and this is now, so I'd rather look forward than back. As ever, I'll have my big smile, do a grand job of appearing to enjoy myself and (secretly) long for it to be over. Best to keep busy. I'm sure my kids and grandchildren aren't fooled by my performance but what else can I do?

We always have a toast to 'absent friends'. Sad yet nice.

Merry Xmas Marilynne.
Today would have been my lovely friend’s birthday, so I’m thinking of her. She has left two wonderful grown up daughters and her first grandson was born this summer. She would have been sooooo proud and soooo excited!
To be her friend was an absolute privilege. 💕

💐