Turkeys and Thanks

Meticulous Turkey Basting 2009

It has been some time since I posted, and it hasn’t been for lack of interest. Or lack of sadness for that matter. 

It just seems like in the last few months, I’ve been feeling pretty good. The reasons aren’t bountiful, but they’re meaningful to me. I haven’t won the lottery (my Mom played the same numbers for years without winning more than $50, so I’m saving my toonies), nor have I climbed Everest: I’ve simply come to a level plateau of feeling GOOD. Certainly, there will be further mountains to climb, and valleys of sad times, but for the most part I’m feeling at peace.

It seemed foreign to me so long ago, that feeling of inner peace. I remember when something as simple as Thanksgiving dinner made me feel cynical and angry. At a time of thanks and blessing-counting, I was thankful for nothing. My mother had died, and it felt like being thankful for anything was hypocritical and without merit.

And here I am, finally able to be thankful with my whole heart. It is a strange place to be, but I like it here.

I am celebrating my 6^th Thanksgiving dinner without my Mom. At first, I didn't even want to attempt making a family dinner, hurting at the thought of doing it without her. I was her sous-chef.  

Over the last couple of years, however, I have hustled and bustled in the kitchen with my Dad, making a serious turkey (my father basting every 30 minutes like clockwork). The stuffing we make is moist and savory, the mashed potatoes creamy and delicious. The baked apples steam when you stick your fork in them, coated with vanilla ice cream. Just the way my Mom used to do it. And maybe even a little better. *wink wink* I have tried to do my Mother’s crafty side justice by collecting the ruby and gold leaves that have fallen to the ground, and placing them on the table as decoration. The perfect display of Fall’s bounty. 

Turkey prep methods? Agree to disagree.

I think my Mom would be proud of how far we’ve come not just in the kitchen, but as individuals. As a family. We have put our well-being on the table and talked about it. Picked it apart. Put it back together. My brother, my father and I: We are whole together. There will always be a part of my heart that hurts and longs for my best-friend, but I think life without her is slowly starting to evolve into something meaningful too. It has to. Change is inevitable.

So on this Thanksgiving, I am so very thankful for my Dad, my Brother, and those that I love very much. I am thankful for the friends that love me for my past and my present, and the friends that give me wings for my future. My heart has mended because of all of you. I laugh more, I feel more, and I am more.

For those of you basting turkeys and celebrating your blessings in life: Happy Thanksgiving. I raise my glass to you, your families, and your Moms. Make sure she sits down to eat tonight, because it’s a safe bet she’s hovering over you making sure your helping of stuffing was big enough. 

This is far from my last post about Judi, although I know it sounds like it will be the last. 

Simply put, I suspect that future posts might be more upbeat: Remembering what made me laugh about her. And I hope if you’re reading this you’re okay with that. Because I finally am.