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Thanksgiving 2008

location: Home
mood: sad
The day has arrived.  Evan came by this morning to pick up a long folding table and some extra chairs.  I offered to bring food, only to be told how much food already was made.  OK.  I asked about family and got the list of people coming.  I asked about football and got a confused look but had a nice chat about the Pats and Jets.  I wanted to ask how he was doing.  I wanted to tell him how sad I was, but I didn't want to burden him.  It was good to see him happy about the cranberry pomegranate sauce that he modified with brandy.  To be honest, I still want my crappy Ocean Spray canned cranberry jelly - go figure.  I digress.  It was good to see him happy about the Jets.  So maybe I did the right thing by distracting him, and in the process by distracting myself.

I just want her back.  I want to know what vegetarian delight she would have made to accompany the 27+ pound turkey that Evan is barbecuing.  I want to know what she would have said about various family stuff that I won't write about here.  What book would she have been reading?  What movie would she want to go see?  What would she think of Obama's cabinet choices?  Yeah, I want to know all that relatively insignificant stuff that I didn't necessarily know when she was alive.  

Mostly, I just want her presence.  She had such a unique presence (I guess we all do?); I'm not sure whether I can describe it.  I always thought of her as an observer since she seemed to be watching everything and everyone.  But she wasn't passive.  In fact, on Thanksgiving she had specific ideas about what to make and she would go ahead and make those things.  She was like that - she knew what to do and just did it.  She wasn't loud about it, but she was effective.  When she spoke, it mattered.  It was as though she waited until she had all the right words in the right order and the conversation had enough of a pause.  Then she would speak, and it would be funny or brilliant or somehow would summarize everything we all had been saying.  And yet, she was unassuming about all of this.  It wasn't like she was cocky or full of herself.  She just spoke and resumed her business.

In the happy chaos of large gatherings, it was comforting to know that there was a calm rational person I could look to when I felt overwhelmed by the masses.  I'm not sure where I should look today.  Do I look to my husband who will be busy catching up with relatives?  Do I look to my children, one of whom will be bouncing off the walls?  I don't know.  Yesterday I thought about how I didn't want to go to this gathering, but I know that isn't really accurate.  I want to go, but I want the gathering to be different.  I want to go, and I want to be allowed to be openly sad.  I want to go, and I want to see her there in the kitchen and at the head of the table.

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Posted on Nov. 27th, 2008 at 10:20 am | | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

Comments


[info]mandella0021

grief is always so much harder during the holidays *hugs*
Posted on Nov. 27th, 2008 03:46 pm (UTC) | | Thread | Reply

[info]ashiralynn

I think it's harder at this particular holiday because I consider it "her" holiday. Thanksgiving was one of her favorite holidays, and she died right before it. I know I'm supposed to have faith and all that, but I just don't understand why God allowed her to die then. On the other hand, would she have enjoyed Thanksgiving had she been so sick during it? Probably not. *shrug* Still sucks. Still want her back.

Thanks for your comment though! It's good to know someone is reading.
Posted on Nov. 27th, 2008 06:34 pm (UTC) | | Parent | Thread | Reply

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