Thanksgiving-induced Gratitude & Grief

Sometimes it feels like gratitude is the antithesis of grief, and the convoluted codependence of these emotions make navigating the holidays an arduous endeavor. It’s not that the holidays are devoid of happiness. In fact, they are punctuated by joy but the spaces between the punctuation are unpredictable and clumsy. I find myself stumbling over my own complicated emotions as I adjust and readjust to evolving holiday celebrations and traditions while simultaneously attempting to construct the most wonderful, whimsical holiday experience for my children.

There are about a thousand different directions to take this and I hope to be able to write a few different posts about the holidays and all the peaks of joy and valleys of despair that accompany them. Today, I’m going to focus on Thanksgiving.

The Slow Death of the OG Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday! When I was a kid my mom cooked a mountain of food. I ate until I couldn’t eat anymore and the only relief was a “food coma” on the floor, or the couch if it was available. Our house was always full of people on Thanksgiving. My brothers visited and stayed for several days. We ate platters upon platters of hors d'oeuvres, played board games, ate a full Thanksgiving meal, laughed a ton, ate desserts (yes, plural) and more snacks, watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, and laughed until our full bellies hurt. The next morning my mom was at it again with a full breakfast. It was amazing!

Things evolve over time. Even if you don’t want them to, even if you fight it, everything changes. Slowly, without me realizing it, our Thanksgiving celebration evolved into something that only vaguely resembled the one I was so fond of as a kid. This year, I finally began to understand that I have been silently grieving the loss of something, something I didn’t even know I’d lost. Thanksgiving happens every year… but the version I remember is long gone.

The First Evolution: Children Get Older

My siblings and I got older, got married, and started families of our own. We had partners and those partners had families and those families wanted a fair share of holiday time. The introduction of partners, and eventually spouses changed the dynamic and made for cramped or impossible sleeping arrangements at my parents’ house. Everything became much more complicated, logistically. This was the first evolution of Thanksgiving. When my sister and I were both partnered, we tried to coordinate holidays at “home” and that worked for a little while, until it didn’t.

The Second Evolution: New Families & Traditions

Early in my marriage, my mom hosted a huge Thanksgiving and included my soon-to-be inlaws. It was a beautiful joining of our families. This could have been the beginning of a new tradition. It felt like the beginning of something! Sometimes a beginning marks the end of something else. This was the last Thanksgiving I would spend at my parents’ house for a decade.

I spent Thanksgiving up in Olympia with my brother and his wife when they had a new baby. I stayed for several weeks to help out and we made a small feast to celebrate my little nephew and Turkey Day. I came back the following year to celebrate his first birthday. That didn’t turn into a tradition either, but it was so special and I was honored to be a part of welcoming the little dude into the world.

As my dad’s Parkinsons advanced, it was harder for my mom to host the way she used to (and still wanted to). My sister and her new husband defaulted to Thanksgiving with her in-laws. Me and my new husband (now ex husband) defaulted to Thanksgiving with my (then) in-laws. For several years neither my sister nor I went “home” for Thanksgiving. We had new families and new traditions. My father-in-law did most of the cooking but my mother-in-law made the most amazing wild mushroom stuffing and, if we were lucky, sticky buns. It was different, but I liked it. There was significance in embracing and building traditions with my new family.

The Third Evolution: Extended Family & True Love

Aunts and Uncles, who had moved to Oregon from the Bay Area, became regulars at family celebrations. Sometimes they hosted at their homes in Corvallis or Silverton, but eventually my dad couldn’t travel. It wasn’t the distance that was difficult, necessarily. His mobility declined so significantly that he could no longer walk and was having trouble swallowing. He couldn’t make it up the handful of stairs leading to my Uncle’s house in Corvallis or my Aunt’s house in Silverton, and neither house was well equipped to handle a 200lb man with mobility issues.

As I was piecing together a history of my own Thanksgivings, I looked back through digital photos but came up short. I only had photos of one Thanksgiving in ten years, the one I hosted in 2017. I have to assume that part of not taking photos, or even remembering where I’d spent the holiday, was because I had small children and some kind of parenting-induced, sleep deprivation related amnesia. Part of not documenting holiday bliss was probably also related to a deep unhappiness in my marriage that eventually led to divorce.

I asked my mom about this ten year gap in my digital photos, and in my memory. How was it possible that I hadn’t been “home” for Thanksgiving in a decade? It was my favorite holiday! She confirmed that she and my dad spent several Thanksgivings together, without any of their children or grandchildren, or any other family members. My mom recalled that it was easier for my sister and I to spend Thanksgiving with our in-laws. I loved the way her voice warmed when she talked about celebrating Thanksgiving at home with my dad. She wasn't sad; she sounded nostalgic and grateful for having spent the time and the holiday with him. I hope someday I love someone the way my mom loved my dad. Someday, I hope someone loves me the way my dad loved my mom.

The Fourth Evolution: Anything Goes

My dad died in 2018. My marriage fell apart later that year and ended in early 2019.

In 2019, I spent an incredible Thanksgiving at my Uncle’s house, sans bebes. He is the most amazing chef and he and his wife have a gorgeous home. There was singing and abundant laughter. We ended the night with cognac and cigars. That year, Thanksgiving felt like magic and I wondered if I’d finally found a new tradition that felt right.

A global pandemic turned the world upside down in March of 2020. I cooked my first solo Thanksgiving, with the help of my small children, in our small rental home in November of 2020. I was lucky to have the kids for Thanksgiving that year (our parenting plan stipulates that I get the children for Thanksgiving on even years). Dinner was incredible and I couldn’t have asked for better company.

Last year, Thanksgiving was supposed to be at my Aunt’s house but her husband got sick and she had to cancel at the last minute. My mom volunteered to host a very small but sweet Thanksgiving for me and the kids. This was the first time I remember feeling sad on Thanksgiving. I was “home” and some of the food was reminiscent of my childhood, but everything else was different. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time. I thought it was dead dad grief, which always seems to creep in when I least expect it, but it was something else.

The Fifth Evolution: The Revolution

Which brings us to Thanksgiving 2023. I was hoping my Uncle would host again because I needed some holiday/family magic. My mom hummed and hawed about whether or not she wanted to host. Eventually she decided that she wanted to host and that Thanksgiving would be a great opportunity for my sister and I to spend some time with her new boyfriend!

I wasn’t looking forward to Thanksgiving this year. The kids would spend Thanksgiving with their dad, per the schedule. Half-time kids is impossible, like I’m living a double-life and neither life feels balanced or successful. Holidays are especially challenging and don’t feel right, or worthwhile, without my kids. In addition to facing a holiday sans bebes, I also recently ended a romantic relationship I thought would last forever. I was supposed to be with his family for Thanksgiving. I felt somber, a bit lost, and was dreading showing up to an event completely and utterly alone. By my calculations, I was entering a “7th wheel” situation: my sister’s family of four plus my mom and her new boyfriend made 6, I was (lucky?) number seven.

My mom cooked all the right food. The magically delicious Costco turkey that she smoked in the Traeger, an Italian sausage stuffing she made from scratch (family recipe), and all the right sides: corn, real mashed potatoes, brown gravy, salad, bread, two types of cranberry sauce. Her new boyfriend was helpful and supportive (he clearly adores her) and made an effort to get to know all of us. He even rough-housed my sister’s extremely energetic boys. They loved it! I made a craft cocktail (The Pear Opines) and asked if we could watch Planes, Trains, and Automobiles to round out the night. My mom and her new boyfriend were onboard. All in all, it was a good day.

So why was I so sad this year?

I’m not sure if it’s maturity or malaise that makes it feel absolutely impossible to move through this time of year unburdened. I don’t want to admit how sad I feel sometimes or how often. Grief is unavoidable, its gravity pulls me into a black hole and all the light disappears. Sometimes it happens slowly. Sometimes it’s so sudden I don’t realize it’s happened until I’m alone in the abyss.

The Thanksgiving sadness crept in slowly:

A plague upon my house. A few weeks before Thanksgiving, my kids were sick for a week. When the kids are home, I’m a full time caregiver, short order cook, housekeeper, entertainer, and nurse. I’m self-employed, so I don’t have paid time off. If I don’t work, I don’t make money and when the kids are home sick it’s really tough to work. They were also home the ENTIRE week of Thanksgiving because of parent-teacher conferences. I call it “No School November.” Thinking about a dip in income, especially as we move into the holidays, is stressful.
Another loss. Someone very close to me, who has suffered a number of unsuccessful pregnancies, lost another baby. Fortunately, modern medicine allowed her to move through the experience without significant physical harm. The emotional impact will be harder to process. I feel this loss.
One is the loneliest number. Without a romantic partner, I am alone and adrift in a sea of couples and nuclear families. I have a loving community of family and friends, two wonderful children, and a fat cat who adores me but sometimes I feel completely and utterly alone. I feel especially alone on holidays when my kids are with their dad.
The gravity of grief. My mom’s house is a happy place but I still feel the absence of my dad. He’s supposed to be there! It’s been 6 years but dead dad grief is heavy during the holidays, and unavoidable. I miss him.
Death is near. My uncle fell off a ladder a week before Thanksgiving and broke bones in his neck. He had surgery but it didn’t go well. I texted my cousins the morning of Thanksgiving to offer emotional support. I know what it’s like to be next to a hospital bed sad, scared, and unable to fully process what’s happening. All day on Thanksgiving, we waited for phone calls with updates about his condition. My mom cried intermittently as she checked in with her siblings and kept my sister and I informed. My uncle died a few days after Thanksgiving. I won’t be able to honor him appropriately in this short snippet and I didn’t know him very well. Most of what I have are foggy memories from family gatherings but I remember my uncle as a strong, generous presence, kind and loving. I remember my uncles together more than individually; a group of Italian dudes shooting the shit and giving each other a hard time. I remember laughter and a sense of belonging to something, that I was part of a family. He is the first of my mom’s eight siblings to pass away. A significant loss for our family. I’ll be attending services in San Francisco next week.
Things evolve over time. This year, more than any year prior, I mourned the loss of the Thanksgiving I grew up with. I realized that I was gasping for some unattainable ideal that only exists in my memories. Ultimately, I began to accept that things change, I allowed myself to grieve the loss, and I made a decision to move forward.

My mom always goes way over the top with details that make the holiday feel absurd, but also special.

Gratitude

Gratitude is said to be a pathway to happiness, so in an effort to balance out the sadness I felt on Thanksgiving this year, here are some things I’m grateful for:

I’m grateful that my children are kind, thoughtful, loving, empathetic little humans. I’m confident that they are already better people at 7 and 9 than I was at 30. I’m proud, but also inspired and amazed by them. They’ve made me a better version of myself.
I’m grateful for the new, very expensive roof over my head and this house I worked so hard to buy, renovate, and turn into a home. I am thankful for the chorus of subcontractors who helped make it possible–most recently the solar tube guy.
I’m grateful for my fat cat, who keeps me company whether I want it or not. It’s nice to have something to love when the house is empty. In a way, it’s nice to feel needed.
I’m grateful for my mom and dad who have given me unconditional love and unending support. They always believed in me and made me believe that I could do anything.
I’m grateful for friends and family who share in my joys and sorrows. Life is better with company and I don’t know how I’d muddle through without my community.
I’m also grateful for you! Thank you for reaching this! I hope some of it is relatable and makes you feel seen. I often wonder if I’m the only person who feels a certain way until I put it out into the world and realize that so many of us share these experiences.

My gorgeous, goddess of a sister and a sunny walk on Thanksgiving

Finding Peace & Resilience

The holidays will always be a cruel reminder of the relentless march of time, of grief, and of loss. All of these complicated feelings are made more challenging when we hold tight to the past or fight change. The longer I live, the more I realize the secret to feeling better comes only with resignation. Let go of old traditions, let go of expectations. Stop “should” ing all over yourself! Just be here now, with the people you love.

I felt a sense of peace when I realized these feelings weren’t happening to me, I was choosing to invite sadness and disappointment by grasping for some unattainable ideal that only exists in my memories. Everything is a choice. I’ll always miss my dad, but I can choose to honor his memory in ways that don’t invite so much sadness. I can miss him and grieve the loss in ways that inspire joy and ignite laughter. I can watch Planes, Trains, and Automobiles!

May you find peace in the holidays this year and if not peace, then resilience.

They’d say “How can ya stand it?” And I’d say, “Cause I’ve been with Del Griffith. I can take anything.”