My body remembers feelings. The type of feelings that last for a prolonged length of time. The worst kind of feeling.

December is the worst time. Christmas is the worst time.

I don’t need to look at the date to know why I’m sad. I always know why around this time. Can’t forget this.

Loss, guilt, pain, hurt, grief. Those are the feelings of December. They’ve lasted me ten years now. I should probably tell you what all the fuss is about. The reason why I hate Christmas. Why I’ve been such a scrooge.

First let’s talk about what Christmas was like before December 2007. Every year, on either Christmas day or boxing depending on where the grandparents were, we’d go round to my nans. By we I mean, mum, dad, uncle, nan and myself. That’s my mums side of the family. our day was spent playing games and winning prizes, small presents under a fiver. This was always my favourite part. Laughing, thinking, trying to beat everyone at scattergories even though I was like twelve and had no hope of winning. Moaning at my uncle when I found the monopoly money under his shoe. That was Christmas, fun and games with family. With the best nan in the world, the one who looked after me when I was sick. Took me to Disneyland for my ninth birthday. I’d sleep over hers and wake up early just to go cuddle up in her bed with her(as a child of cause). I was her only grandchild.

This is harder to write than I thought it would be.

They say time heals. But loosing someone you love never truly goes away. It will come back each year to remind you.

The doctors got it all wrong. Her yellow skin was just some sort of skin condition, have this cream to fix it.

It wasn’t a skin problem.

Yellowing skin is a sign of pancreatic cancer.

Why didn’t they know that? Why didn’t they check?

It was already too late when they found it.

I was in my room when my dad told me. It didn’t fully sink in at first. Was I angry or upset? How do I react to this?

Angry. Had to do something, had to throw stuff around. Break every pencil until the pain turned to tears.

How could they not know it was cancer?

So many treatments, this part is a blur to me. Had an operation, put in a tube that should withstand the weight of a bus on it in the valve between pancreas and liver (I think). The tube collapses. Of cause it did.

Take a day off school, sit in the hospital room with mum and nan. Wait for news. Going to transport her to London. They have specialists there. They might be able to help, prolong her life, not save it.

They take her to London. I don’t remember how long she’s there for.

I remember visiting her the last time. What could I say? Nothing. I held her hand and already she didn’t feel so strong. My stubborn independent nan, dependant on the care of others. Part of me knew this was the last time.

The ward stank, that nasty chemical scent seeping up my nostrils.

I don’t remember what I said, if I said anything. I only know that I did not stay in there for long. I could not bear it.

On December 19th 2007 we got the call.

It was the last day of term, half day, year nine. I’d not long got home. Sat on the floor playing with the dog. Mum answers the phone and bursts into tears. She didn’t need to tell me. I knew.

We’ve just inherited a dog.

Lost a nan.

Lost Christmas.SAD01


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