Thanksgiving

The storms rage on outside, but thankfully, I have internet and satellite connection. So as the thunder booms, "From Hell" is playing on IFC and Pandora's "The Temptations" channel is slithering through the speakers on my phone. Why in the world do I have the t.v. on if I'm not going to listen? Especially with such a gory movie? Well, honestly, I'm a bit attention deficit. That's about as great of an answer I can give you...lol.

Two days until Thanksgiving. I've never been too fond of the holiday, probably because I'm gluttonous every day, only surrounded with less family. And that family has changed dramatically in the past few years.

Before 2008 (at age 24), I had only spent two Thanksgivings away from my father's family. One was at my mom's sister's house, just for the hell of it. The other I spent in New York City, during which I walked across the Macy's  Day Parade (out of utility, though I like to leave that part out). I always spent the holiday with my father because my mother always had my brother (Derek) and myself on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

2008, however, was the most momentous Thanksgiving thus far. Or, rather, the situations surrounding it make it stand out the most...and I'll never again feel a shadow of normalcy on this holiday. You see, this would be a Thanksgiving of bookends, both beginnings and endings.

A picture from Thanksgiving 2008. The beautiful lady in white is my grandmother. Dad is standing to the right of her (in the red shirt) and I'm standing beside him (in the black).

My niece Lillie was born in May that year, so it was my first Thanksgiving with her. Also, it was my first grown-up Thanksgiving: I had graduated college, gotten hitched, a real job, and bought my house. It was both a happy and stressful time, but mostly happy. Since then, the stressful grooves have mainly smoothed out, but I doubt I'll ever be content again.

That day was the last day I would ever feel my father's embrace. The last time I would see his dark eyes slant as a mischevious grin spread across his face. It was the last time he saw his mother, his son, his grandchildren...most of his large family. He died of a massive heart attack on the following monday.

One of our last hugs, and the last picture of us taken.

Apparently, he died before his body hit the bathroom floor. Luckily, though, I happened to see and talk to him a few hours before. He was driving by my mother's house one way and I was driving the other, though neither one of us had a reason to be on that road. I was taking a detour on my way home from work, which I left at 9:00 AM due to a cold. He said he "had a feeling" to drive by there at that time...and his feelings were rarely wrong. Though we stayed in our respective vehicles and our conversation was short, I will treasure this last moment with him.

You see, he and I were extremely close. Though he and my mother had been divorced since I was a year old, he was consistently in my life. My parents got along very well...in fact, when Dad died, my mother still referred to him as her "best friend." They respected each other because they were incredible people, and incredible parents to Derek and myself.

Dad and I (age four). He always loved this pic, for some reason (probably not for the hair or 'stache). Notice how similar it is to the photo above.

Dad and I shared a psychic connection, as hokey as it may sound. We would ALWAYS run into each other in public without making plans, in AND out of town. If I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic, it was normal for him to call moments later asking if I was okay, again, because he "had a feeling." He never made one of these calls when there wasn't a problem.

This connection, I believe, is what made us gravitate to my mother's house that day. When the connection was severed, I felt abandoned by him. He was my main source of nurturing, yet he was the cause of my greatest pain, and could not comfort me. I know that sounds incredibly selfish, but in the deepest stages of grief, the base instincts destroy reason.

That was nearly three years ago. Since then, I have had two miscarriages, quit my job, lost my grandmother (Dad's mother), and have thus developed an enormous depression. Instead of developing further in my adulthood, I seem to regress...perhaps as an unconcious attempt to regain those happy times of my youth.

Derek initially vascillated between anger and intense sadness and was forced to divorce the love of his life, the mother of his daughter (for reasons I won't get into). He has been much more proactive, however, and used his feelings of loss to grow as a man. He started his own business (heating and air) and is very successful. He has emulated my father's parenting styles on his own growing children, and remains very close to them. He has built a house and taken control over his health, eating much more nutrionally and getting vigorous exercise, and is now in the best shape of his life.

Derek and I have seemed to switch roles in our family. When we were younger, he was the one that would constantly be in trouble: getting arrested for various petty things, making bad grades, generally rebelling against the rules of society in various irresponsible manners. I, on the other hand, was the "responsible" child. I made As in my AP classes, went to (and thrived in) college, never saw the backseat of a cop car, and was generally well-disciplined. I was never the center of drama, never had a pregnancy scare, and was headed to graduate school.

So how do I get back to this former self? I should use Derek as an inspiration, because he truly IS one. I am extremely proud of him, and I know if there is an afterlife, Dad is too. I am so thankful for him, and though we have always been close, Dad's death bonded us further. We have suffered the same loss, of course, but we also share memories of Dad that no one else knows about.

Since 2008, Derek and I have spent Thanksgiving with my mother and her side of the family. This year we'll be doing the same, visiting my aunt's house in Pocahontas. Though I'll miss Dad's family, I want to spend the holidays with my surviving parent, who I've become sickly-protective of. I cherish all of my family now, which is probably the greatest lesson my father has given me. This is particularly useful during this time of year, which is by far the most difficult for me now.

Dad and Lillie. This is the last time he would hold her.