Thanksgiving, and Mourning, Redux

I’ve been struggling a bit with the holidays. My mind keeps going back to the first Thanksgiving after my mother died in 2010, and of course my sister and father not long before that. I had such a hard time that year. I went back to my old blog and was able to find what I wrote that year. I gotta share it:

I am profoundly grateful for my boys (all three of them), my sister and other family, my incredible friends…..and most of all very, very thankful that Thanksgiving is over. Not so wonderful this year despite my efforts.

I guess it was a combination of not having any Thanksgiving guests for the first time since I started cooking Thanksgiving back when I was in grad school. And more than that it was the realization staring me in the face that I will never cook Thanksgiving dinner again for my sister or my parents. And as much as I miss my parents, it's my sister I grieve the hardest. In the past day or so two different friends have made reference to the fact that the second year is the hardest. Well, it's was the third without my father, who always polished the silver and said grace, the second without Judi, who despite adoring us, used to have to take a nap midway through the day with my family because it was sensory overload, and the first without my mother, who sometimes, not all the time—but sometimes, felt like my other half. And despite my efforts to make the day different and focus on the joys of my family….I was a total failure. Sometimes you tell yourself that you are the adult and you can do this and it's up to you to make things special for your children….and while sometimes you manage it, sometimes you just freaking fail.

We got up and Ernie and I had leftover meat pie with cranberry sauce for breakfast while the boys had cinnamon rolls. The rain wasn't particularly condusive to a walk so we went for a drive to I could take some pictures. Leo graciously went along with it because I think he was trying to be really nice to me. Owen not so much.

We got through it though and headed home in a pretty good mood. I was frightfully unprepared for the days' cooking but started in. I got my stuffing made and INTO the turkey because that's how it's supposed to be done. Owen brushed butter on the turkey because he'd seen that on a cooking show and I must say he did a damn good job….there was butter EVERYWHERE…. In the oven went the turkey (and yes, it was almost 20 pounds for only three carnivores—but that's the size they're supposed to be you know….) and Ernie and I decided to partake in our Thanksgiving ritual of watching Hannah and Her Sisters. We made it through the opening scene and we both burst into tears. I hadn't given enough thought to the fact that it's about three sisters….and their aging parents. Maybe next year. Ernie and Owen went off to the video store and came back with Toy Story 3. We watched the snow spit at the windows and laughed. Actually we cried during part of that but it wasn't quite the same thing.

I headed into the kitchen to finish cooking and somehow everything fell apart. By the time both boys said they didn't even want Thanksgiving dinner I had had enough and turned the stove off, yelled at them and closed myself in the media room. Ernie was slightly more adult and lectured them and sent them to their rooms. Owen eventually came downstairs crying and apologizing and asking if we were going to throw the turkey out. Eventually I ended up sitting in a chair with both boys on my lap as all of us apologized to each other. Leo suggested that he make brownies for dessert which I knew was an offer full of heart so I accepted and let Ernie and him mix them up while Owen and I watched a Sponge Bob. God bless Sponge Bob and his sweet little heart.

I went back to my half finished food and I gotta say….I'd like to suggest a mid cooking tantrum to everybody because the brussels sprouts were the best ever (even Ernie said so which is an accomplishment) and my turkey was the best I've ever made—-counting fresh heritage, fresh grocery store turkey and good old cheap frozen ones. My gravy was similarly stellar. Who the hell knows…..

I didn't have the table set as nicely as I should have but we did use my mother's china which always makes it seem like a holiday. Owen cheerfully pronounced it the best Thanksgiving ever….well, also the worst he admitted, but the best too….and we all agreed next year would be better.

Reading it made me smile, somewhat sympathetically, at both myself and my sweet boys. I have been trying to figure out why my mind keeps going back to that year because nobody has died, nobody has moved away. I finally decided that maybe it’s because I’m mourning a bit, a different kind of mourning, mourning that I don’t have the mobility or strength to do that kind of cooking anymore, that my sweet boys are men. Maybe I’m mourning because I realize that I have moved into a different phase of my life (as good as it is in oh so many ways). We also couldn’t figure out what our plans were for this year and it has all left me off kilter. We have finally decided (I think) that Ernie and I just will have a quiet day together and then we’ll have a family Thanksgiving with Owen and Trinity and Leo on that Sunday. I was thinking of a Thanksgiving themed brunch but such a thing doesn’t seem to exist. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. I have started a spreadsheet.

Although I sadly messed up my old blog and the pictures got lost, I managed to find a few from that day.

Onward.

Love,
Cynthia