There’s a lot of talk of tradition at Christmas isn’t there?
The food, the shopping, the gifts, the visiting, the dreaded relatives…
But despite tradition, things always change. Usually without our consent. And some of those changes can be so jarring.
A friend recently asked me if I’d write a piece about loss and bereavement for Christmas. And something weird happened to me when he said it. I felt a block. I reflected on it on and off the past few weeks, wondering had my brain actually finally been emptied of words? Or worse, was it broken? Why wasn’t I flinging open my laptop to release the flow of unedited thoughts as I normally do?
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