After all the shopping, all the cooking, table setting, decorating, it's over. This year I wanted to raise my glass of sparkling water and tell each person what they meant to me, but knew I'd never get through it without crying, so I didn't.
In fact, each person at that table meant the world to me.
I'm grateful, after all these years, that I married the man I did. I still respect, love and trust him; marvel at the wonderful life he's provided for me and our children and have never met anyone I'd trade him in for.
My mother had her eighty-sixth birthday yesterday; it frequently falls on Thanksgiving. I can now see her getting older, though she looked exactly the same for forty years. Divorced from a man she still loved and left to raise two daughters alone in an era when that just wasn't done, she held her head high, went out into the world, afraid of what was to come but never showing it to anyone, least of all her children. She went from a department store clerk who could barely put food on the table of our one bedroom apartment (with my mom sleeping on the couch) to working for a premier makeup company and traveling the country to represent their products. It was through this job that she met my stepfather.
My stepfather didn't come into my life until two years after the death of my father. He was kind and patient with a little girl who had been abused by the adults taking care of her while her mother traveled for weeks at a time. He let my trust in him grow slowly until he really became my 'father', not my stepfather. He worked hard, finally allowing my mother to take a break for the first time in her life, raise her children, and provide a normal life - a gift that is beyond measure. At this time in his life, he is in great pain almost daily, but jokes his way through it. One of the things that touches me most is the love he has always shown my children. They are HIS grandchildren, and he is a proud grandfather.
My oldest child is a girl who radiates joy. She's intelligent, funny, emotional and full of common sense. She's not only the kind of woman any mother would be proud of, but the kind others strive to be. No one makes me laugh harder. Along with a tough, practical streak that can get to the bottom of any issue and solve it, is an awareness of the impact of words and actions. We've always been close, but it seems the older she gets, the closer we become. Nothing thrills me more than when she calls to ask for a family recipe that she has a fond memory of, or wants advice on how to handle something with her own five year old. I watch in wonder as she mothers her daughter with a firm yet gentle hand and a clear understanding of the mind and feelings of a child. She maintains a home that is always a joy to walk into because of the good humor and warmth that fill it and surrounds all who live there and enter as guests. If that's not enough, she manages to get in hours working while her daughter is in school and continues her education to the point where she is now a Ph.D without dissertation. Do I sound proud?
My youngest child is a son. I think he was born an old soul, wise beyond his years, patient, as funny as his sister, but with a droll twist. He's dignified, kind and thoughtful, and has been since he came into the world. Every Thanksgiving, despite the increasing hassle of traveling, he makes his way across the country to have Thanksgiving with his family. He's become an accomplished and much published writer with opinions based on a vast storage of information he's been gathering since he first learned to read. A mother's relationship is different with a son than a daughter. With the daughter, there's lots of girl talk and three calls a day is the norm. With a son, there comes a time when you feel you have to let him go so he can become a man in his own right and not smother him with calls and emails. It's a hard balance to know what is too much and what is too little, which personal questions you can ask and which are out of bounds. But I know that if I had the power to design a child any way I wanted him, there's nothing I would change about this one.
My son-in-law is the perfect counterpoint for my daughter: funny, patient and utterly non-judgmental. He takes our family as he finds us, accepting us for the individuals we all are. He never complains about the long drive he goes through in both November and December and seems to be fond of all of us. I don't think I've ever told a joke that he hasn't laughed at. And believe me, I can tell some stupid jokes. He adores my daughter, as she does him, and he's impossible to not love. I've never met anyone as easy going. But there's a strength behind that calmness that demands respect.
My five-year old granddaugter is a joy. As show-stoppingly beautiful as she is on the outside, she is every bit as kind on the inside. She could be spoiled, but doesn't behave that way. She is startlingly intelligent. With parents such as she has, it would be impossible for her to not have a sense of humor, and she has been nothing short of hilarious since she learned how to talk. The larger her vocabulary and world grow, the funnier she gets. At her young age, she's concerned about the feelings of others. Her parents have taught her discipline without anger and her manners are impeccable. She could have a sense of entitlement, but doesn't, and understands that 'no' means 'no.' Part of this, as I think with all children, is innate. But the good manners and lack of sense of entitlement are the direct result of good and patient parenting.
My sister hasn't had an easy life. Holidays are hard for her with one child so far away and rarely home and another trying to make his way back into the family after years of turmoil. As I watched my grandchild playing, I couldn't help but think how much she would have enjoyed being with hers. She could choose to not join us, but she's always there, taking the good with the bad. She's a wonderful photographer, but didn't come to that realization until later in life. Perhaps this will be the year that she's gets the recognition for her talent that she deserves.
As I looked around the table, it was hard not to think about the changes that are coming. My parents are elderly. Will this be the last time we're together for this holiday? I need to make a point of calling and visiting more often or I will surely regret it.
My son is getting married. Will he and his new wife be starting their own traditions with their friends for Thanksgiving in the city that has become their true home? If so, that's the way it should be; each family making their own way.
Will my little granddaughter grow tired of making that long drive every Thanksgiving and want to stay home? I know it's an ordeal for all of them, but not a word of complaint.
Life, relationships, traditions continuously evolve.
But for this Thanksgiving, I'm grateful to have been surrounded by those people I love best in the world, remember those who are no longer with us except in spirit and those who couldn't make the journey. There is some sadness at their absence, but acceptance. We all handle the changes with as much grace as we can muster and will continue to do the same in the years to come. Some chairs will be suddenly empty, but more will come to fill the void as one generation gives way to the next.
I have a lot to be thankful for.
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