It’s Thanksgiving morning and although it’s been over two
years, it’s still not right. I used to get up on this morning to the sounds of
turkey gizzards and all of those other useless bird parts sizzling in a frying
pan because she was making her dressing. It was an old recipe that came from
her mother and she guarded it like Coke guards their soda formula. She would
have a dab of flour on one cheek and a blotch of it on her sweatshirt, as she
rolled out that piecrust, proudly made with real lard. It had to be just right
and many was the time she sighed with exasperation and rolled it back into a
ball to start over again. I would ask, “how can I help?” and she would just say
with that impish smile “Don’t bother me.” This was her gift to her family, to
make that Thanksgiving Day meal. I was just the nuts and bolts of the family
but she was always the heart and soul.
Every bed in the house would be full of sleeping grandkids
and their parents. A half put together puzzle was on the dining room table and
a monopoly game was still spread out on the living room floor. The entryway was
filled with boots and hats and two dogs were whining at the back door to go out.
The driveway was full of cars and in the house she would have decorated, with
those little paper turkeys, the horn of plenty centerpiece and those special
kitchen towels with all the colored leaves and gourds on them. Empty soda cans
and dirty cups were everywhere from last nights gathering. The dogs had
finished off the half eaten pieces of pizza and busted cookies. That Halloween
tablecloth was always there and it always stayed on the table until after the
meal when the Christmas one came out like the changing of the guard. It always
took three tables to feed everybody and then afterwards the men would do the
dishes while watching the football game and the kids and grandma, and their
mom’s, would work on their shopping lists for tomorrow.
I think a lot about those days and how I knew someday it
would all be different. Oh it’s not just her passing that was a bitter pill to
swallow. Kids grew up and moved away. Dogs died and kids found mates and new
people came into our family. Always welcomed-- but it did spread things out
even more. So now we’re back to today and an empty house and the only noise is
my dog breathing and the click of the keys on my keyboard, as I’m trying to
paint you a picture of my thoughts and memories. I’ve accepted what’s happened
and although I always knew it would come someday, I’m not alone by any means.
There are friends and family who have empty chairs at their tables today too,
but not empty hearts. They can take a lot away from us but they can’t take that
away can they? Somehow we can always bring them back like this, on the holidays
and we thank God for that.
Later today I will travel to my friends house where she has
graciously invited me to share her family and their tradition. They are
wonderful loving people and I’m so blest to have them in my life. It won’t be
the same—it will never be the same—the stage may be similar but its a whole new
cast and I realize that there is no way to recreate what I had and no one is
trying to do that. They are just helping me to move on, by sharing their love
and I for one am so grateful. -----Mike
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