This is what the Christmas season always does to me. The minute we hit the first of December, my mind whirls to the end of the month. It seems I cannot stop the torrent of kaleidoscopic snapshots of past celebrations.

First comes the memory of failures - failure to be organised, not leaving enough time to shop, not knowing what to gift my loved ones.

This is when I start to groan inwardly about not learning my lesson from last year or the year before that.

It’s almost as if every resolution I have ever made gets forgotten by January, and the mad dash to ready the house and festivities begins all over in earnest.

Secondly, I am filled with such a light trippy vibrancy as everyone’s mood reaches a higher frequency.

My inbox starts filling with newsletters from Send-A-Cow.org.uk and other such wonderous agencies of hope that I feel my wishes for better things to come have very real possibilities of coming true. It is also at this time of year that I turn my attention outwards to strangers.

Christmas is kind of like a manic happy version of Groundhog Day. I suppose that’s all part of the excitement though; the adrenalin of joy-making. The madness that envelopes you and carries you away whilst you make mental notes of how you would do things differently next year!

This year though, I am reminded of losing someone I loved dearly. I cannot believe it has been almost a whole year. For the first time, this particular celebration bears with it very deep sorrow.

It got me thinking about how a person transcends his grief, hurt, betrayal, pain into a conduit for creating new memories that do not hide the loss, divorce or tragedy, but help to rebuild the balance.

New snapshots, rituals and experiences that can co-exist and live alongside the sad ones so that it is possible to rejoice, to celebrate without feeling torn. I would like to think that this situation calls for creative healing. Perhaps it also requires new meanings to new rituals to brighten the bad ones.

For an adult who has grown up in a household full of pain and stress or person who has endured a childhood of hard or broken feelings and emotions, a time like Christmas can be daunting, especially if you carry on with the same traditions. The tree, the food, the music even can flood the heart with acute angst.

To lose a loved one at this time of year can also make salutations and merry-making unbearable when a part of you wants to be left alone to grieve. In so many cases, the need, the desperate need to ignore the event is the first reaction. To even leave the country so as not to take part in any of the traditions may also be a chosen solution. If the memories hurt too deep, our instinct will always try to protect us from remembering.

Whatever the given situation, whatever causes the pain, it can be accommodated, undone, soothed in time. It can be rebuilt to mean something different for you. Now is the time to be unreasonable in getting your needs met.

Have that empty chair at the dinner table, throw out Frosty the Snowman and get yourself a choral rendition of traditional songs. If the tree bugs you, then get a bright pink tinsel version.

Anyone who has had to suffer an awkward, toxic family meal will understand me when I say, don’t have it!

In fact, have a midnight feast on the eve and spend Christmas day in your pyjamas watching Fawlty Towers. Blow the concept of “this is how it’s supposed to be done.” That’s hogwash. Make your own rules.

The point is simply that we cannot allow our hurt to stop us finding joy in joyful things. That is the larger tragedy. Every one of us has something, someone, somewhere to be grateful for. It suddenly came to me that this year, the Little Man and I will write letters we would never send - letter for everyone missing Aunty Moi, in remembrance of the first anniversary of her passing.

It’ll be a sort of a Christmas card if you will that marks their presence still in our heart. It will also serve to remind ourselves of how abundant our lives are and in a way make those memories stronger.

For all those who are approaching the Christmas festivities with shadowed or heavy hearts, I urge you all to be unreasonable in how you arrange your burden so as to make space for the light of new paths, new journeys, new adventures and most of all, new and fantastic memories.

Asha Gill put her globetrotting life on hold to focus on the little man in her life and gain a singular perspective on the world. You can tune in to Asha’s show Eat, Love, Play on Capital FM 88.9, Mondays to Fridays, 10am-1pm. She’s always looking for stories to tell and ideas to share, so send her an email at star2@thestar.com.my.