‘I’ve missed my sons so much’: Rory Gibson on impact of border closures

After a year of border closures and missing his sons, columnist Rory Gibson is bringing back some family Christmas traditions.

The first Christmas after my wife Kate died in 2010, I decided our three little boys needed to be enveloped in the bosom of their mum’s family in England.

Off we went to the Old Dart for what turned out to be a white Christmas, the snow on the fields of Oxfordshire adding an extra layer of pathos to what we thought would be a sombre gathering.

But it wasn’t.

The boys were smothered in love from their aunts, uncle and myriad cousins.

While there was a big hole in our hearts, the sadness of Kate’s absence did not undermine the wonderful feeling of togetherness and sense of family.

Heading into the English winter to distract the boys from their grief is up there as one of my best parenting decisions.

All our Christmases since have been somewhat less traditional.

When our skinny fibre-optic tree gave up the ghost, it wasn’t replaced. We didn’t really need it anyway, because we didn’t give each other presents.

Rory Gibson in the surf. Picture: Nigel Hallett

We developed a habit of having a surf together on Christmas morning, then settling in with a couple of hundred beers to watch war movies while munching on king prawns and mango Weis bars.

But the separation caused by border closures has had a strange effect. Without consciously planning it, we are returning to traditional.

I’ve bought a new tree. Ordered a ham. Selected presents and got some proper wrapping paper with little reindeers all over it.

I’ve missed my sons so much I want to shower them with affection every way I can, even if it is through the artifice of what has become a horribly commercialised institution.

When I told the boys I’d shelved my heathen ways and gone all Christmassy because I love them so much, I thought they’d take the piss something fierce. But they’re jumping on the sleigh.

“We have to give, like, actual presents?” asked the middle one.

“Making you an Aperol Spritz won’t cut it?”

I’m going to have a lot of fun with the three people I’d take a bullet for next Saturday.

I hope you all do too.

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