I have always loved Christmas. Everything about it, the sparkle, the kindness people show, the carols, the movies , the food, the drinks, the pure magic of it all. Each Christmas we look forward to visiting the local garden centre to marvel at the beautiful displays or to visit Santa himself. We had precious times on the Santa Special with Ellen and then also with her cub. The Santa Special trains run on the steam railway in our cute little village and has been a family tradition for many years. Another tradition was also that Ellen was a pixie on this train – one of Santa’s little helpers. In 2014 she was actually chief Pixie – the pinnacle of her Pixie-ing career!
“On Sunday, I was nominated to work as Chief Pixie on the Worth Railway Santa Special Train! This fabulous privilege required me to talk back to the other pixies and, whilst following Santa down the train, working out, through a ridiculously complicated colour scheme, which present is needed for the next child. I love Christmas! It was the loveliest five train rides I’ve ever been on!” – Ellen Scott
This Christmas everything feels different, so silent, so sad, so empty. Ellen and I would get giddy about Christmas together each year. We would get a telling off for getting excited about the cards appearing in the shops in September and playing Christmas music in the kitchen. If I visited the garden centre without her she would have something to say about it. Even when she had her own baby Santa still came down the chimney in our house for her. He always left a trail of glittery footsteps all the way to the foot of our huge tree and up the stairs where the Christmas stockings were hung. He also always enjoyed the sherry and biscuits we used to leave him. Sometimes he enjoyed a little too much sherry and struggled to put the presents in the right place!
The smell of the (always real) tree would fill the living room and you could always feel the warm cozy glow of Christmas everywhere in our house.
This Christmas I decorated a tree but it isn’t in our house, it’s at the cemetery. I made a little pink star out of some pink wire we had. Every little thing in our house holds a memory. That pink wire has been used in so many different creative ways… wrapping around wine bottles with sparkly beads rather than gift wrapping, making jewellery, embellishing cards. All with smiles and mostly happiness (sometimes sadness too) and often wine. Many many evenings sitting round our big kitchen table making things and making memories at the same time. Ellen would come to me with her ideas and often together we would make them happen. It’s good to be creative, it’s therapeutic sometimes. I know Ellen relied heavily on her creativity to dispel the trauma that the last few years posed to her. She discovered how to make flowers funnily enough out of wire then glue and nail varnish. I know she made her friend a princess crown. My girl was a creative genius.
When Ellen was a little girl she used to always have to have scissors sellotape and paper around her. We jokingly used to call her the scissors and sellotape pilferer. Often when the last pair of scissors had disappeared from the kitchen drawer we would have to investigate her bedroom. Sure enough there would be several pairs unknowingly stashed away by Ellen, just dropped in the exciting moment her creations were finished. At a very young age she sat there with her scissors and paper and made a cube. ‘There you go mummy it’s a washing machine‘. The round door at the front wasn’t just drawn on in it; it opened. I still have it to this day. Things would be made for the fairy folk, hats for the cats, clothes and games for the dogs, never a dull moment. I have a Santa sleigh complete with reindeer and of course the man himself. I have always treasured this and always will.
Everywhere I go at the moment I cant escape Christmas. It’s in every home I visit, in every shop and street corner. I’m not trying to avoid it or spoil anyone’s fun but it just makes me feel so overwhelmingly sad. My Christmas buddy is silent. Always silent. Not gone away travelling and coming home in a few months but truly silent and this is never going to change. That’s a really difficult thing to write because writing it down almost means acceptance. In my mind though I can not accept it, it feels wrong to do so.
This year we made a calendar. It has been a focus for the group of us who created it and it has helped; it has been a distraction (who would fail to be distracted by sparkly mermen and Christmas in our lounge in mid June – oh we went for it with Christmas music on youtube and all the decorations) and also has helped to know that we are helping others like Ellen by supporting the brilliant charity Mind – for better mental health. We have had conversations with many many people as we have marketed the calendar and it really has been eye opening listening to the struggles that so many people have had with their or their loved one’s mental health. They have been the ones who really seemed to have understood how we must all be feeling. Otherwise you can only imagine. I used to hear news stories and wonder how people who lost their children can possibly even try to live some semblance of a normal life after what happened to them and their child. How could they even get dressed in the morning never mind how can they ever smile again or go about their normal lives. It is what seems like an impossible struggle to suffer the loss of someone so close and Christmas seems to magnify the pain.
There was a day recently where I came across a lady by chance on facebook. She had lost her lovely daughter three years ago and she seemed so strong, refusing to let people forget about her daughter and always keeping her memory alive. I don’t know what made me message a perfect stranger about such a sensitive subject but I did. She saved me that day with her reply. She went through the stages of how she felt when it happened and how she got through. I was at a very low point that day and what she so kindly said did not make me happy again but what she said gave me hope….. hope that I could get back just a little bit of that strength and fighting spirit that people seem to think I am so full of. I’m not, I’m devastated. It’s Christmas and she is not here. What I will do though is keep fighting for the people that Ellen wanted to help and for the people I love…. I will never be ready to stop fighting.
Christmas Day will mark exactly 18 months to the day since we lost our girl. We will visit the cemetery and hear the silence loud and clear but then we will celebrate with our loved ones who are still physically here. We carry on for them and also for you my darling. We love you very much and know you are all around us but despite the deafening silence we know you will always love us very much too. We will have a happy Christmas because I can hear in my head what you would say to us if we didn’t (And somehow you would have managed to put a swear word or two in there somewhere as you so brilliantly did)! . So……..
Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you for supporting Mind by buying the calendars and cards! We know that Ellen would have made sure everyone was getting one for Christmas…. There are a few left so get your orders in. There’s still time!