Thanksgiving

Today is the day when we are supposed to be thankful.  We're supposed to spend the day with our families laughing and eating.

I have so much to be thankful for; much more than most.  I'm thankful for my parents, sister, and all my nieces and nephews.  I'm thankful for the love of friends.  I'm thankful that I live comfortably.  But on Thanksgiving, it is hard to not focus on the loss.

Today is my second Thanksgiving without Brian.  Two years ago we spent Thanksgiving at home, with a house full of people we love - happy and, we thought, healthy.  Who knew that Briand's stomach ache after dinner was the cancer and not the turkey?

Last year on Thanksgiving I was recovering from back surgery.  My parents were here with me, but it was a non-holiday.  It was easy to ignore Thanksgiving.

This year I was supposed to fly to New York to spend the holiday with my sister's family and my parents, but the weather had different ideas.  Ridiculously long flight delays made me cancel the trip.  Honestly, I wasn't disappointed.  I would have loved to see my nephew, but I was dreading spending Thanksgiving with my family.  How can it be a holiday with family if Brian isn't there?  It can't.

Grief has become private.  I know longer wear it publically on my face or on my sleeve.  It's still very much with me on a daily basis, but I don't have the energy to let it loose, and others have list their patience with it.  Its been 19 months, the new normal is supposed to be comfortable.  It isn't.  Especially on Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is a cruel reminder of the one thing we were most thankful for and that was taken away.  I'm very grateful for the time together that we shared.  Until the cancer it was all good.  But he was given a death sentence when he had just turned 48.

I'll be spending this afternoon with friends.  We'll laugh, we'll eat and it will be fine.  It will be better than fine, it will be fun.  But family Thanksgivings will never again feel right.  I'll continue to celebrate Thanksgiving, and I hope that one of these years, my grief finds a place within me where it no longer casts a shadow on my gratitude.