THANKSGIVING 2010 - a day of celebration

GRIEF IS A STRANGE BEDFELLOW.
I had it in my mind that every holiday, every celebration after Christian's death would bring me to my knees and render me so devastated that I couldn't possibly enjoy the day.  Indeed the days leading up to Thanksgiving were terrible.  I dreaded it. Oh how I dreaded it.  And I was so depressed.  But that preconceived idea was wrong.   And I have learned a valuable lesson.


Holidays and celebrations should be something to look forward to and not something to dread.  Instead of making us miss Christian more, the memories of good times together and the laugher and love he brought into our lives made us joyous.  He would never have wanted us to be sad.  He would have wanted us to be happy in our memories of him.


As we gathered together to celebrate Thanksgiving day, we discovered a wonderful new meaning of the day.  Christian's passing made it not just another holiday but a time of real appreciation of family and the time we spend together; and of the new memories we are creating.

THANKSGIVING 2010

The Thanksgiving celebration was over.  The food put away and the dishes washed.  The house was quiet.  All the family members were in their rooms and settling in for the night.  It had been a wonderful day.  Each family arriving with their contribution to the Thanksgiving meal; working together in the kitchen.  Having a glass of wine.  Nibbling on appetizers as we worked.

The table in the formal dining room - the room we only visit on holidays - was set with the antique china and crystal stemware.  Usually we serve dinner buffet style but not this year.  This year beautiful bowls and platters were piled high with tempting and lovingly prepared food and placed on the table.  Gone was the formality of years past.  This was a real down home Thanksgiving.  The turkey was golden and perfectly cooked.  We all agreed that it was the most beautiful turkey we had ever prepared.


We gathered as a family around the table.  Kenny offered the prayer of thanksgiving.  A glass was raised to Christian.  His place left empty at the table.


We had each dreaded this day without him; we had each had our moments and even days and weeks of great sadness preceding this gathering.  It had snowed - a terrible snow storm -  and the streets and roads had been covered with snow and black ice.  I had been secretly hoping the weather conditions would make it impossible for my family to get here.  Then I could stay in bed all day and pretend Thanksgiving had never happened.   But the evening before the temperatures began to rise and the snow and ice began to melt.  And I knew that Thanksgiving would take place as planned.


Now it was here and it was alright.  It was good.  It was very good.  I should have realized that the warmth that family brings to a home is beyond measure.  It was as though the lights in my dark existence had all been turned on.  The house sparkled with their personalities and love.  The only one that was unable to find some joy in the day was Bobby.  He ate and then retreated to the quiet of the guest house.


After dinner I ask everyone to share a favorite Thanksgiving memory.  We didn't get pass my youngest daughter, Tiffany.  Her memory lead to more and more and more stories - some Thanksgiving related, most were not;  and very quickly we were laughing so hard - harder than I have laughed in a very long time.  The term "bent over with laugher" comes to mind.


Now the house was quiet and I found myself suddenly overly warm.  I pulled on my robe and went out on the front porch leaving behind the scent of roasting turkey that still lingered.  The night air was surprisingly mild.  I sit down on the wicker settee, leaned back, and settled my head on the back of the cushion.  My eyes slowly swept the landscape - barely being able to make out the silhouette of the trees in the darkness; unable to see the branches, the snow that remained looked like meringue clouds suspended in the air.


All around me the sound of rapidly melting snow filled my head.  Water was cascading to the ground from the trees and bushes.  Heavy droplets of water falling from the roof and rain gutters down onto the porch boards was loud and continuous. I could hear the melting water running and falling into the drain in the driveway.


From the porch I could see the street light off in the distance through the trees.  The light reflected down onto the snow covered road casting an orange-yellow glow.  The dim light added to the mystical feeling of the night.

I closed my eyes, breathed in the cold night air, and sat listening to my soft breathing, feeling the rise and fall of my chest.  I no longer felt any of the pressures or the stress of the past three weeks.  Sitting there alone, with my eyes closed, I was no longer an observer of life.  I surrendered my mind and body to the sounds of the night.  The night and I were one.