Thanksgiving Memories (And Why This Year Sucks for Me)

BY Elizabeth Yeter

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I’m sure by now you’ve already asked this question or answered it more times than you can count. And this year, my answer is an honest, but rather pathetic, “Nothing.” “Nothing nothing?” everyone always asks.

Well, that’s a tough one to answer. Because I do plan on getting out of bed. I plan on brushing my teeth. I might turn on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (do they still have that?!) I might make myself this roasted squash and watch a football game or two. Or I might not have the energy to turn on the oven at all. But nobody wants to hear those answers. They want to know about my big family food plans. Am I going to my sister’s house? How about a Friendsgiving get-together? Will I make my famous from-scratch-crack-the-nuts-myself pecan pie?

But the truth of this year is that I have no real plans. My extended family is in California, but I’m in New Mexico. Nobody is coming in from out of town. No friends have invited me to join in their traditions.

But before this blog post turns into a pity party, I want to share with you that despite the prospects of this year, I still feel hope. Hope in the memories, the Thanksgivings past that continue to fill me with warm fuzzies and smiles as I look back.

All my Thanksgiving memories - the good ones anyway - are wrapped up in one person: my grandmother. Paw Paw was and always will be the epitome of hospitality for me, and Thanksgiving was her magnum opus. Because what is Thanksgiving anyway? It’s about coming together and sharing food and kinship. And those were two things of which Paw Paw was a master.

Her alarm clock would buzz at 4:30 A.M. so that she would have plenty of time to begin preparations. Bake the pies, stuff the turkey, boil the noodles for her signature lasagna. Ok, I have no idea the order of how she did things or how twelve hours was enough for one person to accomplish all the cooking that she did, but I know that at 5 P.M. we would all walk through the door and everything would be perfect. The tables festive, the food hot and delicious, the hugs soft and loving.

Of course the family would come. Cousins, uncles, aunts, great aunts, family that I could tell you is family but I don’t know how. But there would be others too. My grandmother was the kind of woman who, if you said you were doing nothing on Thanksgiving, would make sure you were at her table at 5 P.M. And when you got there, she’d treat you like you were one of her grandkids. Yes, she loved like that.

I’m crying as I write this. I’m crying because she’s gone and there’s no one to carry the torch. It’s been a couple years since her death, but for some reason this year it’s really hit me. I should be carrying on our family traditions, but this year, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’ve been going through my own private hell, and I can barely “adult.” I want to be up at 4:30 A.M. cooking for a crowd. I want to offer warm, genuine hugs to those who haven’t felt loved in years. This year I just can’t.

But one day I will. This season that I’m in right now of grief and self-doubt will pass. Perhaps you’re in a similar situation as me, and the thought of having to fake happiness in a crowd of friends and family is more than you can bear. I want to encourage you (and myself too!) that this feeling will not last forever. It does not define you. You are more than the sum of your emotions and your circumstances.

And if you do have plans this Thanksgiving, don’t forget to be thankful for the people you get to spend it with. Treasure those memories. One day you may need to bring them to the forefront of your mind to give you hope for better things yet to come.