Thanksgrieving- Reflections on The Second "First"

Thanksgiving memories...


Early morning cuddles and the first “Happy Thanksgiving, honey” of the day. A morning cup of coffee delivered bedside, along with another kiss, and a quick review of the to-do list in advance of our Thanksgiving gathering. A morning walk with Charlie. Or Lucy. Or Tracy, Spencer, Bear, Katie, or Kitty - beloved members our four-legged fur family through the years. 



9:00 am. The TV is tuned to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, while the aroma of sautéing veggies signals the beginnings of turkey and dressing prep. As I cook, memories of the Thanksgivings of my childhood fill my head. I feel my dad’s presence, emulating his culinary skills, from the precise vegetable dicing to the simmering turkey broth that will eventually flavor tonight’s gravy.


Tables and chairs take their positions in advance of arriving loved ones. Furniture is moved to accommodate the additional seating for friends and family. No one should be alone on Thanksgiving, and our table is always open for extra guests.



The stuffing gets final approval by the official taste tester. The dressed turkey is ready for the oven, and the anticipation of an afternoon shared with loved ones is palpable. Do we have everything? Of course not! There's always the forgotten item or two - or three - and the final trip to the grocery store ensues.

By mid morning, the bird is in the oven. Football games replace the parade, although no one is actually watching. Too much to be done, and I am in my "organized chaos" state of mind. George knows it well, and dutifully tackles all my last minute needs with his usual calm and humor - and occasional hugs of reassurance that all will be perfectly imperfect when everyone arrives.  Serving dishes line the counters, adorned with post it notes indicating their designated contents. Tables are set with fall splendor. Candles stand tall, soon to offer their warm glow to our gathering. 

It’s the quiet time before the eagerly awaited feast. The wine glasses are neatly arranged - stemmed soldiers in precise formation - alongside the bottles of Thanksgiving cheer. Sparkling cider assures every guest will have a toast-worthy beverage. Everything is ready. The house is filled with the quintessential fragrances symbolic of the fourth Thursday in November. I am usually upstairs at this point, transforming my kitchen-maid attire for something more presentable and photo op worthy.

It’s time! Our “open door” policy is something we cherish. No doorbell required. Our loved ones let themselves in, and I immediately feel the joy and gratitude for the wonderful humans in our life. The rest of the afternoon and evening is a cacophony of happiness, food, and love. Giving thanks. Feeling blessed...



I won’t lie. Prepping for my second Kahuna-less Thanksgiving still tugs at my lonely heart. 588 days without him cannot erase the love and memories of the 18,108 days we shared.

I know I’m not alone. As we give thanks for all with which we have been blessed, each of us certainly feels the absence of those who won’t be at the Thanksgiving table today. To each of you, I send my love, my gratitude, and my wish for peace and comfort.



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