Yesterday was our first holiday without my dad. I can’t say that Thanksgiving was my dad’s favorite. For the most part Thanksgiving was spent with my mom’s family. Imagine as many conversations as there are people, all happening simultaneously. Loudly. In multiple languages. My dad would hang out on the fringes, drinking his coffee and reading or chatting quietly with my uncle. My mom and I would pass by and check on him, make a snarky comment or three, and then dive back into the commotion. He would join us for the meal, which he always told my grandmother was perfectly prepared.

My favorite childhood Thanksgiving memory was when we stayed home, the three of us, and I woke up early to the sound and smell of my dad getting the turkey ready. That’s what I kept remembering that yesterday. It’s what I’ll remember next year, and the year after that.

One down. Way too many to go.

2 thoughts on “

  1. Hugs to you! This was my first Thanksgiving without my stepdad, too. It's hard and I can't imagine it getting easier, but people say it gets more bearable. Here's to hoping…My stepdad always liked to dress in his evening tux–black pants, white coat and a black bow tie–for Thanksgiving dinner and he always looked so dashing. It didn't matter how much the rest of us dressed (or not), he wore that tux every year just because he could!

  2. Hang in there Carolyn — Got through my first Mom-less Thanksgiving this year by doing things I never did before on Thanksgiving: going to the movies (Muppets!), having dinner in a restaurant (delish, with no cleanup!). But am dreading the Christmas gauntlet; we're hosting, and relatives will be involved, so so far no way around it (except for glorious alcohol)-

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