Thanksgiving

As wrong as it feels, I don’t like Thanksgiving. I can’t remember if I ever did. But I don’t think I did. And I KNOW that since mom died I like everything about it even less. 

As a kid, it was the holiday that was too short to spend with any relatives who all lived too far away, so we spent it with an ever changing guest list. Mom cooked and invited people who needed a place to be - usually international students & their families, who didn’t speak much English. Turkey and stuffing wasn’t my food, and neither was pie. So the food didn’t even win me over. 

Since our family never really made our own traditions, as a grown up kid, it was the holiday we didn’t really make too much about celebrating together either. 

My sister always spent it with her husband’s family. And so I did the same. 

We sort of skipped it. Or celebrated at a different time in a different way... mom even let us give up traditional food in place of new recipes we wanted to try. Although her stuffing and a turkey (she loved the leftovers) stayed a staple. 

With my own kids, I wanted to give them some sort of thanksgiving tradition since I never had one, but one never stuck. 

And then mom died. 

Thanksgiving was the first holiday without her. And I hated every minute of it. Even if she would have been alive and we wouldn’t have been together, she would have been a part of it. And she wasn’t. 

I lost all resolve to create a tradition. 

I tried to move thanksgiving to the beach for the first few years after she died. But that never took off. 

I tried to just let it be. Follow my husband’s lead and do it their way. But who was I kidding? 

Last year, I thought I had struck the balance. Run a 5K, deliver for meals on wheels and then do my husband’s family gathering. 

So this year I tried to do the same. But the cost of the 5K for a family of 5 seemed a bit much. The meals on wheels volunteer gig wasn’t a sure thing. And, bottom line, I didn’t really feel like doing any of it. 

Tomorrow, I’d be up for sitting around my mom’s table and eating her stuffing with celery and apples, that I have notoriously made fun of for 30+ years, with strangers I can’t communicate with, except to smile and nod. 

But anything short of that doesn’t seem worth the effort. 

I’ve spent the year really trying to cultivate gratitude (read: meditation). And yet, on this holiday about gratitude and thankfulness I keep coming up empty. I keep trying to have the thankfulness bubble up to the top. Instead, I just feel sad and maybe a little bitter. None of which looks real good on anyone, and doesn’t feel any better than it looks. 

I am thankful. So very thankful. For my family. And our health. And our perseverance and love in the hard times. And for my job. And my kids’ teachers. And our friends. And colorful sunrises and sunsets. And the clouds. And running. And cheese. And laughter. And the way my kids still smell good when I sniff their heads at night. And rocking chairs on the porch. And good TV. And good memories. And having felt loved and being able to love. 

So very thankful. 

Every. Single. Day. Even when it is hard. Even when it is Thanksgiving and thankful is supposed to be the first emotion, but somehow ends up being the hardest one to bubble up to the top. 

As I wrote this, the meals on wheels volunteer coordinator reached out to me and has a spot for us. For which I am thankful. I think I will start there.

*** After I wrote this and published it, I had a lightbulb moment. 

The thanksgiving tradition my mom gave me was to be thankful every day, so that you didn’t need a day specifically for it. And if I don’t pass down a heirloom recipe or thanksgiving activity to my kids, if I give them that, THAT is something to be thankful for. 

I knew I needed to write this, just didn’t know why until I did. ***