That time…I gave thanks.

Thanksgiving was my mother’s favorite holiday. She didn’t care so much if you were at the house for Christmas, Easter, Passover or Memorial Day, but you would be there on the fourth Thursday of November and you didn’t leave. You didn’t do dinner there and dessert elsewhere. You didn’t try to switch days to accommodate another family. It was the one time in her life she did not allow us to bend the rules. She did not give in on Thanksgiving.  She would get home from work Wednesday night and shortly after dinner was cleared, she would begin cooking for the following day. She would be the first one up on Thursday and as we were awaked by the multitude of tempting smells permeating the house, she would be in her pajamas in the kitchen with the meal half cooked and the kitchen a half destroyed. Still till this day I can’t confirm that she actually did sleep the previous night. Part of the mom magic we all possess I suppose. My siblings and I would tear the bread for the stuffing while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. There was always too much food, too much noise, and too much to clean up. As we got older, when the meal was put away, newspapers would cover the living room floor and dining room table as we all searched for the holiday must-haves. We would talk about our Black Friday plans and point out deals to one another and pull names for our grab bag. My mother always came through with an item that you only admired in passing that evening. This day of thanks was exactly what my Mom enjoyed. She was grateful for all of the small things and lived for that one day a year when we would go around the table and say what we were thankful for. As we each took a turn it was though we all confirmed that she was doing motherhood the right way. That we did not take for granted our home, health and most importantly one another. Family was everything to her and by example, it is to us as well.

Let me preach. Take a minute on Thanksgiving and look around the table. Really look, whether you spend the day with one person or a house full of family. Watch their expressions, listen clearly to their words, and close your eyes and take in all the smells, sights and sounds.  One of these Thanksgivings will eventually be the last for someone you love and share the day with. It’s morbid, that isn’t lost on me, but this holiday based around giving thanks and gratitude and joining with loved ones does not erase the other end of the spectrum; the sadness and longing for those same individuals once they are gone. We had a last Thanksgiving with my mother. We had a turkey and sides and pie all the while knowing that it would be our last. Three weeks later, my mother passed away. If our time never ended, we wouldn’t know how special it truly is. New Year’s is a time of reflection for many people. They think about the past year and all that has happened, but I urge you to do the same on Thanksgiving. Think about all those small events over the past 12 months that you are thankful for beyond the food, shelter and family. The fixed refrigerator that didn’t end up costing you much. Reconnecting with old friends. Finally finishing that book you’ve always wanted to read. The friend who mourned the loss of a pregnancy last year expecting in the new year. The toddler who didn’t speak much is now completing sentences, and that person you vowed to love in sickness and in health is thankfully on the health side for now. Eat too much turkey and pie and never be the first to let go from a hug. Happy Thanksgiving to you and whoever makes up your family.