Thanksgiving Happened

The annual shaking of the spices was taken over by the female. It's been the oldest boy's domain for 13 years and he didn't seem to even notice we passed the torch. I think perhaps he wasn't as in love with it as I was in love with the idea that it was tradition for him to do it.  After the spices are shaken and mixed they can go on the bird.

It was a little funny, the girl did a little silly dance just like he always used to do, before he was too cool for such things.

The night before Thanksgiving I fell into bed so tired I could barely think.

And then I could not stop thinking. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. I wasn't thinking "oh I'm so sad because my parents are dead" or anything like that. I was just unable to let my mind slip into darkness, into peaceful sleep.

I ended up getting out of bed at 1 am and watching tv for an hour with the husband, and having a bowl of cereal. I took two benadryl to induce some chemical tired and finally my brain lost it's battle and I had to crawl into bed to finally sleep for real.

I baked the pies of my people, the sugar cream pie. It's never exactly like what we had in Indiana. Somehow those were more custardy or something. I don't care. I kind of love these. They're more like the tarte de sucre I get in Montreal but they're amazing and full of sugar and cream and there is nothing bad about that.  I gave one to our neighbors, the oldest boy's best friend.

The day was without incident. A wonderful meal was prepared and I was surround by the family we've made. I didn't feel a big sense of loss of anything else. Maybe that's because I haven't been "home" for a Thanksgiving since 2002. I'm not used to being with my parents on that day, so not seeing them didn't mean that much to me. Not being able to call them is less and less painful and yesterday was just another one of those days.

It might've been harder for my brother's family who would always make a pass through my parents as they were doing all the family visiting. My other brother has lived away from home a while too, so perhaps he felt a bit more like me.

It's not that something was missing on this day, because it was a wonderful day. Something's just missing from my life.

Not monkeybread though. Monkeybread I totally had.

At dinner, after we eat our feast, we always say what we're thankful for.

That was the moment for me. I wanted to say that I was thankful that my parents weren't suffering any more but I couldn't get those words out. I couldn't say them because it felt too much like saying I was thankful that my parents are dead. I am not by any stretch of the imagination thankful for that. But they were both suffering, I cannot being to elaborate on the degree to which their lives had devolved into hell.

I am thankful my parents aren't suffering. I am thankful for things I cannot name but that I can feel. I am thankful for the people who have shown me who they are whether that is good or bad, because I have learned where my love is best spent. I am thankful for my husband who has endured my tears and my craziness and my irrational rages. I am thankful for my two brothers because now we are the family and our families are the greater family.

I am thankful to be. That's all, just be.

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