Since Jess passed away, I’ve tried more than ever to count every day as the present it is and be positive, even when it has felt really hard. Jess, who was full of energy whatever the metaphorical weather, would have liked that I think. So somehow, I’ve found a way of digging deep and carrying on. Dare I I say it, even finding joy again, even though I’ll forever have a gaping Jess shaped hole in everything we do . But Christmas and New Year are extra hard. No two ways about it. The first couple of years I knew would be, of course. But having just survived year 3, I’ve got to say even the most positive of us find it tough. I think many bereaved parents would say the same. We’re surrounded by painful reminders at every turn; the Christmas school concerts we no longer have a seat at, excited faces that we have to remember rather than see, very empty spaces under the Christmas tree, the list goes on. I find the only way is to embark upon some sort of self hibernation, tucked under a blanket only to emerge carefully as I choose! Because after surving the first wave of what seems to be omnipresent festive euphoria, a new, equally painful whack follows only a week later as New Year lands. AKA a stark reminder that a whole other year has passed since this nightmare began, and another year further away from life with Jess. I sound like Scrooge, don’t I? And that’s certainly not how I mean to be. But I think it’s important to recognise, for all bereaved parents out there, celebrations are extra tough and finding a coping mechanism, whatever it needs to be is the best present you can give yourself. This year. I’ve been lucky enough to get away and even see a Christmas tree on the beach! Somehow, I think Jess would have liked the mischief of that.😀