Here’s the thing, I told him: when you don’t have anything else left in the tank, and when you’re emotionally and mentally exhausted, and the release of quietly sobbing into your pillow has somehow become the one thing that gets you from today to tomorrow in a vaguely coherent way, then those tears are a gift.
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Moreover, I said, please don’t take them away from me. I took great comfort in my tears. And I discovered the enormous relief that could be found in letting emotions out. Understanding how we feel is hard. Nobody gets a training manual. But what became clear to me was the fact that those tears, even if they embarrassed me, and worried everyone else, were quite OK.
For people of faith, this is a season of miracles and possibility. For those who eschew religion, it is still a time of healing, solidarity and reconnection. For each of us, the meaning of Christmas is very individual. For me, it is friends, an opportunity to reflect, to laugh and share memories, to remember my beautiful mother and the energy, ambition and hope she poured into me, and a nice excuse – as if one is needed – to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.
Do not forget those without families. Christmas is a tough season to shoulder on your own. If you can, open your house, and your table, to those who do not have the joy of a family to plan their Christmas for them. And do not forget that the smallest of gifts – an invitation to share a meal, or even just taking the time to talk and listen – is sometimes the greatest gift of all.
And if you’re out there, in the final Christmas Eve rush, navigating the stores and queues and wondering why there’s an unease to everyone’s collective Christmas cheer, take a moment and be mindful of others. If someone needs a moment, give it to them. Give them some space to feel. And try not to tell them how they should. Remember Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata: Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
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Don’t let your anxieties overtake you. And don’t worry what does, or does not, make it onto your Christmas table, or what is delayed in the post, or does not arrive at all. Cherish those you love, take a moment to remember those who cannot be with us, and do not forget those who are still processing their grief.
And if you don’t believe in anything, then at least believe in the possibility of the Christmas spirit, whatever it might be, and the kindness and gentility it bestows. In 2025, the greatest gift we can share is that we have each other, and that we still have the clarity of purpose and the purity of heart to invest in a better future for us all.
Michael Idato is the culture editor-at-large.
