On Sunday my relatives from Liverpool arrived in Portsmouth, to attend Mum's funeral. Aunty Margaret, 91 year old Aunty Mary and my Cousin Angela. This was the first time I had seen them, since 2012 at my Nan's funeral and it was lovely to see them again, after so long! It does seem, that the only time I really get to see extended family is on such upsetting occasions, but nevertheless it was important they attended, to see Mother on her final passage.

In the evening we chatted and reminisced about the 'old days,' talking about Nan and Grandad, long since gone and happier times, when our scouse relatives came to visit. Of course this may well be the last time I see my Aunts. Like all our family, I lead a busy life and have no idea what the future holds. Making the most of the time I had with my kin folk from the north was amazing and brought back so many memories of my childhood. This was a special Sunday evening, perfect before we said goodbye to Mum!

We got to my Fathers house early Monday morning, where my Brother and his wife had already arrived. The atmosphere was somber as one would expect, but Dad was holding up well, under the most difficult of situations. He seemed pleased to see his Liverpool family, who sat chatting about Mum. Aunty Mary presented Dad with two folders, detailing prayers said in church for her. These two Aunts are deeply spiritual and were both brought up Catholics, so it was comforting to know, that Mother had been in their thoughts and those of the Church.

Other family guests arrived over the next hour. My Cousins Chris and Maria, Mum's sisters and Brother and her two nephews, all mourning her passing and celebrating the life of a Lady, who will always remain in all out hearts.

The funeral cortege left Dads bungalow at 12pm, followed by the family in two limousines and others attending the funeral. As I sat there, looking out at my old stomping ground passing by, many pictures popped into my head - Time spent with Mum, Dad and my Brother, growing up in an idyllic part of the World. Playing in fields, long lazy summers, walking towards the woods at the end of our road and being cradled tightly, securely by Mum, at times of trouble. This was Mum's final journey, taking a route she had travelled many times before, but it was also the last trip I would take, following in her footsteps, in the place I used to call home.

We arrived slightly late for the funeral, after trying to navigate through a rather long traffic jam. The next funeral was already waiting to one side as we pulled up. It was strange that the other funeral was for the Mother of a young lady who I work with. As selfish as it may seem. I did feel comforted by that fact, knowing I wasn't the only one grieving a loved one that day. As I've discovered, it is always best to grieve as a group, comforting each other and helping one another through the difficult concept of death.

There were a lot of people at Mum's funeral, far more than we could have expected and that made the day even more poignant. Although Mum and Dad rarely had visitors in their latter years, due to Mum's ill health, there were still many who took the time to pay tribute to someone they had known. I was amazed to see the hairdresser who did Mum's hair before her Wedding, friends and neighbours from our time living in Thorni Avenue and to finally meet Dad's Best Man at their Wedding. All of these people, made Mum and Dad who they were and all of them cared enough to remember the life of someone who touched their heart.

Along with my Brother, Uncle Paul and John and Mum's nephews Lloyd and Kye, we carried the coffin into Portchester Crematorium, where a priest from Holy Trinity Church, where Mum and Dad got married, conducted a beautiful service of remembrance. My Uncle Paul read a Eulogy I wrote for Mum, unable to speak the words myself and Mothers favourite songs and hymn, Amazing Grace was played. It was a deeply emotional occasion for all of us who attended and and event I shall always remember.

Eulogy - Mary Elizabeth Light 1949-2019

As Mary’s Brother it is my honour to read a tribute to her, on behalf of her husband David and children Luke and Kevin. The following Eulogy include the thoughts and feelings of my sisters grieving family at this difficult time!

Mary was born on the 11th February 1949, to Poppy and John Frampton, in the small market town of Fareham. She was one of five siblings and leaves behind sisters Susan, Diane, Helen and Brother Paul! All of us will miss her deeply, a bond that can never be broken. A local girl at heart, she rarely travelled far; her priority in life very much centred around her family. As a small child she was diagnosed with type 1 Diabetes, an illness that would change her life forever, as she began the process of coming to terms with her condition.

In 1962 Mary met her then future husband David, whilst at school. David ‘thought he would like a date, with this lovely looking girl’ and a year later in 1963, they began a courtship that would see their eventual engagement in 1965. David would bring along his friends and gather in Poppy and John’s breakfast room, playing darts, chatting and getting to know one another. On one memorable occasion, David missed the dart board, piercing a water pipe, leaving damage in its wake, but that didn’t dampen their spirit and they eventually married at Holy Trinity Church in Fareham in 1967.

On the way to their honeymoon in St Ives, Mary and David travelled by coach. David had placed their case in the rack above, as they sat enjoying the journey ahead. When the time came to get off this old ‘bone shaker’ David jumped up and started to pull down the luggage. Losing his grip, he dropped in square on Mary’s head. Just the first of many bumps in the road and a time they still laughed about until recently. The beginning of their journey together and a lifetime of memories that flowed!

Mary worked at Suttons the Bookshop and Keast’s in Fareham, which sold Prams and baby equipment, finally training to become a hairdresser like David in the late 1960s. She followed a full time hairdressing career into the 1970s, when she finally gave up full time work to look after their first child Luke, who was born prematurely in 1971. Still working when she could, she relished her new role as a Mum and housewife. In 1975, David and Mary’s second child Kevin was born and their family was complete. Doting over her children, Mary would never waver in her devotion to her husband and sons, even during testing times; all the while dealing with the spectre of diabetes, that was never too far away.

Sat on a chair in the kitchen as Mum cut his hair, Luke was never one to sit still, fidgeting throughout and objecting to having to suffer the indignity of having his hair cut by Mum, Luke slipped further and further downwards, at which point, his Mother turned round, grabbed the kitchen bowl and placed it firmly on his head, threatening to give him a cut he’d remember if he didn’t sit still. It was the 1970s, a time of weird and wonderful hair, but even Luke sat up straight at the thought of a bowl cut, to go with his flared trousers and wide collared shirt!

Mary became a carer for David in 1998, when her husband suffered a brain hemorrhage. Her priorities as a wife and Mother had changed and turned full circle as David began a process of rehabilitation, aided by Mary and her belief in the man she married and the words ‘in sickness and health,’ ringing in her ears.

As a ‘protector’ Mary championed the needs of others, above her own. In the words of her son Kevin, she would have made a great ‘Health and Safety Officer;’ she always saw danger in everything. Over cautious, thinking of the worst case scenario, the bathroom door would remain unlocked, when anyone was having a bath – Just in case they fell asleep and slipped under the water. This ombudsman and campaigner of safeguarding always set her clocks ten minutes fast ‘just in case,’ a tradition carried on by her youngest son. There was always an emergency toilet roll to hand and she never trusted anyone with a key to the house. In her medical bag, an emergency kit-kat, packet of Mini Cheddars and neatly folded kitchen roll; prepared for every eventuality!

Mary was also a battler and grafter, working two jobs, at the Highlands Co-Op and as a cleaner at the local school for many years and of course caring for her growing family. This was a happy and productive time, until she retired in 2007. In 2008 Mary suffered the loss of her left leg, after years of injecting insulin took its toll. She remained determined to keep walking on her new prosthetic limb, right up until 2013, when she sadly lost her right leg and was confined to a wheel chair.

Despite all the heartache Mary was delighted at the birth of her grandchildren Meghan in 2010 and Hayley in 2013, two beautiful young girls who she adored and always gave her hope for the future. Mary may have been disabled, but she was now a proud Grandmother and always looked forward to seeing them when she could. Family were the linchpin of her life and without the love of her husband, Mum and Dad, brother and sisters, children and grandchildren, the difficulties she faced would have been so much harder to bear. This local lass from Fareham left an indelible footprint in the heart of all those who knew her and will be a great loss for everyone, especially her husband David, who cared for her during her final years of life.

In life we can’t always choose the battles we fight. Mary’s road was a hard one, but it made her stronger and more determined to beat the struggles she endured. With her customary smile and stoical outlook, she fought bravely, everyday and never faltered in her desire to grasp every second of life she had left! She will always remain in the hearts of those who knew her, a hero in every sense of the word!

The wake at Cam's Hall Estate concluded a fantastic send off for Mum. I was delighted that many family members attended, many of whom I haven't seen in years. It was great to listen to their stories about her and recall the more propitious circumstances that defined her life.

2019 has been a terrible year for losing loved ones and it is a time I would rather forget, but on the plus side, I have been able to see many friends and relatives I have missed, reconnecting with a family I was estranged from for over twenty five years. The wake, made me realise the significance of my ancestry and I am finally aware of just how important these people are.

Mum's passing is a milestone that can not be matched. I know we should have been closer, especially during the 'lost' years, but as time moves on and our lives continue on this journey called life, I am happy to have had the best, most loving, dedicated and strong minded Mother in the World - A World, that was all the better for having her in it!

Writing has always been a great healer for me, so today it is more important than ever, to put words on a page and express how I feel. At 12.20 this morning, my precious, precious Mother passed away peacefully at The Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth. With my Father and Brother, I spent a final forty five minutes talking to Mum, reassuring her and watching as her life slowly slipped away. The great battler in my life, the person who never flinched in pain, always thought of others and cared deeply about her family, was no more. As I sat there remembering my life with Mum, I was struck by the way she conducted herself, even in death. My Mother will forever sit at the end of my bed, wipe my tears away and make everything better. The memories I cherish will live on in the hearts of those who loved her and the dreams of a family who remained the linchpin of her life.

It was 10.45 in the evening when I received a call from Rebecca, a nurse in the Cardio unit of Queen Alexandra Hospital. She had been trying to get hold of family without success, Mum was about to take her final journey. To be honest I had been expecting this for a long time and remained calm and collected as I phoned my Father, telling him of the grave situation Mum was in. My Aunt then phoned my Brother and I was on my way to the hospital in a taxi.

I had no idea what to expect; the last time I saw Mother she was in excruciating pain, crying out for help, distressing for all of us there at the time. Mum's high pain threshold had deserted her, despite everything she had suffered, she was in more pain now than ever and deep down I knew the end was in sight. When I arrived in ward C7, Mum was laying up in bed, breathing very slowly unable to see me. She was unaware I was there holding her hand, but as the nurse said to me, able to hear my every word. I spoke softly to her, gently asking her to close her eyes and fall asleep, one last time. Kissing her on the brow, I stroked her hair, wiping a tear from her eye. My Mum was dying and I wanted to be with her til the end.

A Doctor knocked on the door and asked if I would accompany him to a private room, where he explained the gravity of the situation. Mum's organs had failed and she wouldn't last the night. We discussed whether or not she should be resuscitated and just what the hospital was doing, to make her as comfortable as they could before she slipped away. I said there should be no attempt to bring her back, but let her die with dignity, quietly surrounded by loved ones. My Father would have the final say on this matter of course, but I was sure he would agree.

Shortly afterwards my Father and finally my Brother arrived and we spent the next half an hour talking and expressing our love for Mum. This was an emotionally charged scene and a deeply private time for us, so don't want to go into too much detail. I was reluctant to see Mum in this state, but recalling it now, I wouldn't change me being there for anything. As Mum breathed her last, she looked as beautiful then as she always did.

Gently I removed Mum's glasses from her face and closed her eyes, handing the spectacles to Dad. My Brother was emotional and upset and we both did our best to comfort one another. Neither him or I were used to this kind of situation, so while my Bother and Father, sat with Mum, I went to reception and did the necessary paperwork, phoned members of our family and of course my husband Darrell, who overcome with emotion, cried down the phone. In Darrell's words: 'Lost a Mum today, a beautiful fighter. She took me in  when I was far from my Mum, kind and accepting. Sleep under the Milky Way with us my dear!'

Leaving Mum behind was difficult, but after a 60 years of suffering, she had gone to a much better place and is no longer in pain. Mum was always very stoical in many respects but illness and advancing age is a terrible thing. Mum had type 1 diabetes and had learnt to live with it for over half a century. The complications she had sustained were many and great - from three amputations, sepsis and failing organs, but she always managed to bounce back and live another day. This time however, even a hardened battler like Mum couldn't win through!

My Mother wasn't just a battler, but she was also a hard worker, holding down two jobs when my Brother and I were small and also managing to provide a cooked meal everyday. She was always at home when we got home from school and didn't have a bad bone in her body! Mum was a housewife first and foremost, a grafter in every sense and a lady through and through. I have many fond childhood memories and despite not always showing it, I loved her greatly. This was a woman I respected, never swore at or in front of and always thought of, no matter where I was living in the World.

When a parent dies, there are no written rules about how to deal with it. How should I feel? How should I act? How do I cope?... and most importantly... How do I deal with what comes next? As I sit here writing today, I have so many questions; I keeping thinking, could the hospital have done more? and just how can I help without treading on anyone's toes and upsetting my Brother or Father. My theory is to keep a low profile, do what I can from here and let others take charge, that way nobody will get hurt, after all this is about Mum and Dad, not me or anyone else.

Today I have been thinking about Mum, quietly at home, with no one about, just me and my memories. I have cried and laughed, planned for the future and conversed with numerous family members who want to be there. The death of a loved one can cause rifts in families where there were none and I am aware of my place within this process now. I need to spend however long it takes, reflecting on the passing of a beautiful lady, who I was proud to call Mum, she was a massive part of my life and will continue to be. As my focus changes to saying goodbye, I look forward once again to retreating to the fringes of family life, which tends to suit me best. Being there for Dad now and in the future, quietly in the background when I am needed is my choice and as Dad recovers from the trauma of loss, all of us can learn the lessons of life, and live it to the full!

Yesterday was a day of mixed feelings; in the morning I attended the Christening of my Cousin Thomas, at St Patrick's Roman Catholic Church on Hayling Island. It was wonderful being a part of such a special occasion, attended by family and friends. In the past I have avoided such events, preferring to mark such milestones privately, keeping myself, very much to myself. In 2019 my life has changed much and I am now a part of our large, growing family, in a way I wasn't before.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish my Cousin Emmy, Partner Ben and their son Thomas, lots of love for the future. Thomas is a lovely young boy, who is always a joy to be around. With Ben's daughter Helena, their family is now complete!

Whilst driving to the church, I received a phone call from my Father; Mum had been rushed to Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth, after suffering from a massive heart attack, on top of everything else she has suffered in  life. I was left shattered and in a quandary about what I should do - go to the church or straight to the hospital. I chose to continue to the church and celebrate one of our families newest members before leaving for the hospital.

The service lasted two hours, after which we headed back to a local hotel. I spent fifteen minutes saying my goodbyes and left for QA Hospital. I was greeted by my Father and Brother, who I rarely see these days. As siblings my Brother and I never really got on and mine and his life went in very different directions. Neither of us are about to bite the bullet and forget the past, so we tend to just tolerate one another on such days. We were polite enough and along with my Father discussed Mum's failing health, as we have done many times before.

The Doctors kept us informed of Mum's situation from the moment I arrived. After the first chat with the consultant, we were under no illusion, that Mum's chances of survival were slim. She had suffered a big heart attack and they were fighting against the clock, doing everything they could to get her well. On arrival the A&E team tried to insert a stent into Mum's artery, without success. The vein was too furred up and as the Doctor said, it was like trying to drill through rock - impossible! We were assured they were doing as much as possible, to stabalise Mum and bring her blood pressure up to normal levels.

Mum was lucid and able to talk, although the strong painkillers kept kicking in intermittently and Mum would drift in and out of consciousness. We were all aware of the amount of pain Mum was in, although unsure why. I have never seen Mum suffer so much. Normally she has a very high pain threshold. After years of injecting insulin and three limb amputations, there isn't a lot Mum hasn't experienced, but somehow this discomfort was worse than any of the above. It was upsetting for all of us, seeing Mother in this state, but we know just what a fighter and battler she is and if anyone can overcome adversity, she can.

After spending four hours with Mum, I left for home, phoning my Aunt and Uncle to let them know of the situation and explained that the Doctor in charge had expressed his concern at the gravity of the situation she was facing. All of us were unsure why Mum was in so much agony, but it certainly didn't sound good and we were all expecting the worse.

Today I have been in constant contact with my Father and the hospital. Mum's health continues to suffer and the prognosis has changed from positive, to grave and as I write a little more positive again. It seems the heart attack has caused a lot of damage internally  that the Doctors are trying to reverse, but the heart itself seems to be recovering well and working as it should. The messages and health updates have been rather confused at times, but we know Mum is in safe hands and the wonderful Cardiac team at Queen Alexandra Hospital are working hard to save Mum's life!

It was back to the Cancer Research fold today, after a few weeks break. Not only have I been busy, working everyday for over a fortnight, but I have had a few personal issues to sort out. It really felt good to be back with the gang, even though I did find it hard.

Let me explain...

...On Thursday I was put on beta blockers, a drug that slows your heart rate down. As a person, I have always suffered with anxiety, nothing major, but enough of an issue to see my Doctor about. On top of this, I have had some blood pressure and heart issues, culminating in a rather high heart rate of 198 beats per minute. After explaining my concerns to my GP, she suggested taking beta blockers, they not only slow your heart down but also help deal with the physical symptoms of anxiety. Well I duly followed her advice and started a course of Propranolol on Thursday; 40 mg up to three times a day, hoping to at least start dealing with the concerns I currently have.

I have been in a little bit of a daze since taking these pills and have found adjusting to them rather difficult, but understand it is important to carry on taking the medication. Today with my heart rate down to 55 beats a minute, I made my way to Cancer Research to begin a few hours work, hoping to overcome the side effects I am suffering. Being around Zerina and everyone who work there is always a tonic and I got through the day remarkably well, despite feeling lightheaded and rather unsteady at times. I have reduced the dose of Propranolol I am taking, from 40mg to 10mg, hoping to gradually increase the level administered over the next few weeks. I really am not enjoying the ghastly aftermath these tablets are causing, but am sure it will change in time.

Interestingly another volunteer was able to reassure me about beta blockers, explaining his difficulties using them himself, allowing me to breath a sigh of relief somewhat, understanding more about just how this medication works. For a time this morning I was concerned my heart was beating far too slowly, but believe this is all part of the initial stages of 'bedding in,' as my body gets used to its new regime. The advice I was given today has lifted my mood and allowed me to look forward positively, trying to focus on the bigger picture, rather than panicking about the side effects.

Being around the team at Cancer Research was a joy this Monday, lifting ones spirits at an onerous time; enjoying the company of friends, dressing up and in lighthearted mood, I was able to put my problems on the back burner. Laughter is the biggest medicine of all, better than all the beta blockers in the World, so it's the most important time of the week for me, a time that I will always cherish fondly, making money for good causes, memories for today and affording meaning where there was none; there's no better pay packet than that!

It has been four years since I started blogging in 2015 and I am delighted to say I am enjoying it more today than I ever have. Blogging has become an important part of my life, it is the first thing I do when I wake up and the last activity I undertake before bed. Writing is a passion that will never be broken; I look forward to the next four years.

I have learned a lot since I started my first blog 'Bipolarcoaster' in April 2015. 'Bipolarcoaster' was a first tentative step into the unknown. I made many mistakes but always maintained the same desire to record and document my thoughts, feelings and events, which true to form, still remains today.

Thousands of people click on 'Roaming Brit' daily, all wanting to read about my latest endeavours. My life isn't particularly exciting, but the difficulties I have experienced and continue to experience have resonated with those who take an interest in the stories I tell. To all of you who continue to read my entries, I would like to thank you for your commitment and for highlighting the subjects I write about - mental illness, homosexuality, bullying, travelling and life living in Spain. Your loyalty is humbling and you are all responsible for the success of 'Bipolarcoaster,' 'Forever Enduring Cycles' and of course my latest blog 'Roaming Brit!'

As I enter my fifth year blogging I hope to keep your interest alive and tackle many more difficult subjects, close to my heart. As ever your participation is crucial and I look forward to hearing from you, as I do in your messages, texts and emails everyday...You are all 'Roaming Brits!'

On Monday, I sadly lost my Aunty Carol, after a five year battle with Ovarian Cancer. My Aunt was a very special lady, someone I will miss dearly, as I know all our family will. Despite her own difficulties in life Carol always had time for others; for me she was a link to a family I thought I had lost forever. She was the bridge to my Mother and Father at such a crucial time for us and she was in part responsible for the relationship I now have with my parents.

Aunty Carol was first and foremost a family person; anyone who knew her could see the amazing bond she had with her children and Grandchildren. As a unit they were close, it showed in the rapport all of them had together. I attended a family function in the local village hall we had always used as a family, to celebrate milestones in all our lives, on my return from Spain in May last year. I was immediately transported back to my childhood, surrounded by those closest; Aunts, Uncles and numerous Cousins and at the centre of it all with my Cousin Carrie-Anne, helping to make sure everything ran smoothly, was my Aunty Carol. My own immediate family, were never close and I always looked towards my Aunt to give direction and gently encourage me to do the right thing.

For many years I was distant from most of my maternal family; my Great Aunt Carol however was always in contact, keeping me updated on family events, births, deaths and marriages and how she was keeping, as her health deteriorated. So despite my estrangement from the majority of my relatives, I still had a relationship with my Aunt, who was a great source of inspiration and support, during some very challenging times. I was always pleased to hear from her and looked forward to receiving her messages. Equally Carol was one of the few people who was in regular contact with my Mother and Father and gradually over time, she persuaded me to contact my parents once again and begin the process of building a new relationship with them.

I became closest to my Aunt while living in Spain. I found my time in Gran Alacant isolating and lonely, consequently messaging my Aunt more regularly; she was a link to my family that I was missing and wanted to once again contact, beginning the process of rebuilding a connection. I needed to open a channel to my parents and carol was the one who helped me do that, eventually re-establishing a relationship and facilitating our meeting on my return to the UK.

I saw Aunty Carol a few weeks ago, just before she died. She was on the same ward as my Mother at The Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth. She was in a private room, at the end of the corridor, to try and keep her as far away from other patients as possible. She was undergoing Chemotherapy at the time and was extremely prone to infection.

I was lucky enough to spend an hour talking with my Aunt and Uncle, which was a special time for me. We spoke about the old days, family life and what the future holds. Carol was upbeat and chipper, as she always had been, despite the pain she was experiencing; her loss of hair and mobility issues, irrelevant as she expressed the love she had for her family. She was immaculately dressed as usual, her nails, perfectly manicured, articulate and happy be around those who loved her. As we spoke, I became fully aware of her enduring agony and discomfort and the courage she was showing under the most extreme circumstances. This was a woman who had great strength of character and put others before her own self interest, this was someone who had done everything possible to watch her family grow. Battles are won through the hearts and minds of those who play a part; she remained unassailable right to the very end!

I will miss my Aunt terribly, she was a great source of comfort  at  troublesome times. She leaves behind a legacy that includes a wonderful family and a positive outlook on life, two things I have taken to heart and will continue to live by, as I move towards my fifties. I was lucky enough to play a small role in her life and will always remember the happy times I spent in her company, as I know everyone who knew her will as well. Rest in peace dear Aunt, I will see you one day again I'm sure. Until then, keep smiling down, watching over everyone who loved you, looked up to you and remembers you for the amazing, beautiful, unique person you were!

Yesterday I spent Christmas Day with family and friends and my Aunts house in Portsmouth. I have not had a family Christmas for over ten years, so was looking forward to spending quality time with those closest. My Aunt has gone over the top this Christmas, as she does every year by all accounts and I was amazed by the amount of presents in the house, when I returned from a mammoth sixteen hours working on Christmas Eve. To be honest, I slept like a log and woke up at a rather respectable 8.30 am, instead of the usual 4.00 am; it was nice to finally get a decent nights shut eye.

My Aunt had been up since the early hours, cooking and preparing the house for the day ahead. I spent the morning finishing some writing and getting ready to pop around my Cousin Cerissa's home, a little over five minutes walk from where I live, where we met the rest of the family and exchanged gifts!.

The rest of the day was spent eating and drinking, opening presents and playing party games; the usual things every family does at this time of year. I did manage to phone my Mother and Father, Darrell and speak to my Aunty Margaret in Liverpool! Darrell had spent the day quietly with his Mum, who sadly at the moment, is ill. The chemotherapy is clearly taking its toll and I am glad Darrell is there with Mum at this time, she needs all the support she can get. With my Mother still in Hospital, Dad spent the day with her; not their usual Christmas, but something they will have to get used too, now they are both getting older. Finally my Aunt in Liverpool had a quick chat, updating me on family gossip, sending her love to my Mum and Dad. Phone calls to family we are unable to see in person during the festive season is important. Whether you agree with the religious connections behind Christmas or not, the one thing we can all agree upon, is the benefits of spending time with those dear to us.

I have reconnected with family over the last six months, in a way I haven't done before. Christmas was an important milestone in my relationship with the important people in my life. For the first time I took part in celebrations that only a short time ago would have been unthinkable. Today I look forward to a more positive future surrounded by family, something that has become paramount at my time of life. Wherever we are in the World, it is always good to finally come home for Christmas!