My family has celebrated Thanksgiving early for so long, I don’t think we remember when we didn’t. It stemmed out of a long-standing tradition my parents started by taking a month before Christmas to warm up in Florida or somewhere along the Gulf of Mexico. Dad was an avid golfer and Mom loved the food and outlet malls to shop for Christmas gifts for the family. It’s something we’re used to–and more than that–I love that on real Thanksgiving, I didn’t have to go anywhere!
We gathered last weekend to have our annual family celebration. Spirits were high. More than ever, we were just grateful to be together–though, of course, Dad was on all of our minds. And I think there was something gentler about this gathering. We joked and laughed and talked as we always have, but I think we all treaded a bit more carefully than ever before. There was just no way this wasn’t going to be a joyful family celebration. We wouldn’t stand for anything less. My mother, sisters and I are the core of our family in a way we’ve never had to be before. It’s important, and we all take these newly revealed roles quite seriously–and rely on our connection to each other more than ever.
I was surprised by how effortless the day seemed—much like Dad’s celebration of life in September. I think it’s natural to assume milestones will be difficult, but I think in some ways those are the easier ones to prepare for. Family unity is powerful when aimed at protecting our sense of togetherness and gratitude and love. But when it came time for the annual family photograph—something Mom insisted happen—there was a moment as we gathered in our usual spots where I felt Dad’s absence deeply–he always stood in back near me. It was a quick moment that I’m “lucky” enough to be adept at navigating since loving and losing Ken. A split-second decision was necessary. A choice was presented: focus on the devastating loss of my father or remain present in the moment with the rest of the family he treasured.
The correct answer for me was B. And that’s what I chose. For me, for him, and for all of us. I know each of us was confronted with the choice several times that day–and many more since he died. I understand both choices intimately. I can’t say either is wrong. After Ken died, I was often trapped in a loop of loss that felt never ending. At times, I was mired in it. But I can say for certain, anyone in my family facing the same choice and getting caught up in the loss and pain of my father’s death is not alone My mom, sisters and I have so frequently used the phrase “we’re in this together” since Dad died because…well…it’s true. I’m proud to say how equally effortless it has been to stand together. We are a force to be reckoned with.
There is a little relief in having the first first over with. Other firsts will come, and they won’t all be easy. What is easy is knowing my dad left behind a close-knit grieving family full of love and humor. We’ll have some bumpy times ahead. They don’t scare me. Because I’m not alone. None of us is.
