Giving Thanks

Yesterday was a very hard day for me, but in different ways than I thought it would be. Everything I have read about grief and mourning (which is not a lot) warns about the first holidays and anniversaries after your loss—that these will be some of the most difficult times. I have been trying to prepare myself for this. I have been girding up my emotional loins, if you will. So I wasn’t surprised to wake up with a sense of melancholy. And regret. I regret that the last 5 Thanksgivings (with the exception of that magical one in Paris) I have gone to work in the morning, instead of staying home and learning how my mom made that amazing stuffing. I regret that I didn’t get to watch the Macy’s Parade with mom this year and discuss the musical numbers-- very scant on Broadway numbers this year, which would have disappointed her. I also regret that last year we didn’t savor every second of our “last” Thanksgiving—last with mom, last in the yellow house, last without knowing loss, last without being truly thankful for togetherness and family.

The evening was beautiful and magical. We spent it with Elliott’s (Katie’s fiancée) extended family. We had met them before on a few occasions, and have always enjoyed their company. My mom loved his aunts. They welcomed us with open arms, literally, and made us so comfortable. They were mindful of us, mentioned mom in the prayer, and were so sensitive and kind. It was bittersweet because I knew how much it would have pleased my mom to be there. I wanted her to share the wonderful family togetherness and warmth and love that were in that house. After dinner, we sat around and sang to the amazing guitar music, laughed, and cried. I tried so much to be “in the moment” and leave all my baggage at the door. For a few moments at a time I would be carried away and be, well, happy. And for that, I am thankful.