Thanksgiving Without Mom

To most Thanksgiving is a wonderful day, filled with family, food, joy and memories. The memory part is the problem for me. Thanksgiving was our favorite holiday together. The last Thanksgiving I had with her we were at my grandfather’s house. We took lots of pictures in fear it would be her very last Thanksgiving spent with her, we were right.

I have my own family now but no matter what there is still an empty space, the space she filled. Most will never understand when my emotions become a complete rollercoaster around the holidays. One minute I want to go to our extended families house. The next minute I am completely against it and just want to stay home with our little family. Most people will find it selfish if I decide not to go to their house for the holidays. They will find it disrespectful and highly offensive. I want them to know that’s not how I mean for it to be. I wish they could understand the tug of war that goes on inside of me when the holidays are drawing near. The constant battle of longing for things to be like they were before she died. The other side knowing things will never be the same and I can’t bear to face it.

I wish deeply things were different and I could be overjoyed with the holidays because that would mean she was still here with me. Instead, being around family reminds me even more of what she is missing. Reminds me that another Thanksgiving has come and gone without her laugh, smile and hugs.

Her favorite foods on Thanksgiving were my deviled eggs and vegetable tray with my famous dip. I haven’t made those things since the day I lost her. I will probably refuse to make those things ever again because it hurts too much knowing she won’t be there to enjoy them with me. Most people will think this is silly that I can’t bear to make a recipe. It’s not the recipe, it’s the memories associated with the recipe that hurt.

As for this Thanksgiving I will do like I have done for the last three years. I’ll save a seat for her at dinner with a picture frame in place of a plate. I will avoid the recipes, pray that she comes walking through the door to have dinner with us and silently wish I could go back to the last Thanksgiving I had with her.