Christmas is done for another year, the day disrupted and organised round hospital visiting times. It's been a day of distracting my mother and being entertained by my four year old nephew. I don't know what normal is now now, but everyone is fed and watered. No one argued.
My mother forgot her evening pills but struggled through with an emergency supply of morphine and painted on a brave face. I appreciate her effort, and the normality of it.
I've worked hard to make my house feel like home for us all, and over shopped, and over catered. I guess it's about wrapping those I love and worry about in as much comfort as I can as a brief respite from reality, pain and fear.
It's been lovely. Charades and board games largely directed by one wee boy amongst adults. His joy is ours.
Next year it will be back to three of us; mother and daughters, my brother with his wife and child will be with their other family.
I want to hold on to to the memories of this one. Normal. Family. Fun. Thoughtful.
Leftovers to be turned into something interesting, if not fabulous, for the next few days. Life just being life, and Christmas just being Christmas.
I'm no longer a believer in God, and I'm not hugely concerned about maintaining the origins of Christmas, but I am concerned by its spirit. Family, friendship and hope for an uncertain future.
Tomorrow I will tidy.
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