WE
GATHER TOGETHER, GIVING THANKS
Every year there is a special day to honor loved ones, to
give thanks for what we do appreciate abut the year almost over. It can be a hectic time with too much
on our “to do” list. It can be a
time for remembering those no longer with us. Often the music
of our growing up years comes back, a art of our DNA to know
the musicals, folk tunes, classical pieces that give us joy, comfort, feelings
evoked only by music. Often for me
it is church music from my choir-days, or the spirited music of Joan Baez or
Peter, Paul and Mary---forgotten for months, but it can come back when I hear
it on the radio.
In my pre-ten years, we often had an outdoors Thanksgiving
in Death Valley—no music, maybe turkey mom had prepared ahead, mostly a chance
to get into the desert and explore between rain squalls. I have photo memories of enjoying the
desert when Jeff was a toddler, and we lived in Salt Lake City, so did get to
Death Valley that spring, when the flowers of the desert made their miraculous
appearance, often for only days, then dormant again for years. When my sons were young, John and I
drove to the Great White Sand Dunes to camp, climb the dunes, explore the
creek, and enjoy the magic of this once seascape, now in the southwest corner of the high desert of Colorado.
For years, I did make the traditional Thanksgiving dinner
for my family, as I had learned to do from my mom’s example. She loved to have the
grandparents come for the day, and we saw their joy in being included for the
yummy meal, with lots of leftovers to take home and sustain them for days to
come, when they returned to a home devoid of children and laughter. It was a reminder of the importance of
intergenerational holiday times, putting aside our differences to just share
stories and be together.
When Neal and I moved to Oregon, we spent Thanksgiving of
1986 in Auburn; mom paid for us to fly down, and it may have been my last time
celebrating with Neal, as he usually preferred to be with his friends in Ashland,
and I often went to the free meal for folks who were single and without family
nearby. The Auburn time was the
last time I saw my cousins Terry Ellen and her brother, Robert. Terry took her life a few months later,
ending a life of drugs, disappointments, humiliations we never knew of in her
family life and years in the army.
At that last dinner with extended family, she seemed withdrawn, not
eager to share or converse with these folks who knew so little of the demons
inside her that led to a final exit of desperation. Sad indeed, that a lovely woman still in her twenties did
not see anything positive in her fortune.
We cannot change the sorrows given us, but we can rise again to greet
the new day as long as life has some meaning. Terry was a veteran; we never knew what troubles she’d faced
without a mentor to encourage her, remind her of her strengths, befriend her
when she felt abandoned. We still
have many vets today facing the dark clouds of their war experiences, and not
always receiving the support they’ll need to create a new life.
Many Thanksgivings I did not feel the comfort of family, so
when mom became troubled in mind and discouraged by her misfortunes, Jeff and I
often drove to be with her, either for Thanksgiving or Christmas. It gave her joy to be with family,
first in Ashland when she could drive to us, then when she lived in Auburn as
Marie’s companion. It was tough
for Jeff and me to watch her becoming frail, disinterested in gardening or
cooking decent meals as her health steadily declined. I am sure we did bring sunshine into her life, and she loved
to laugh with us, not noticing how her home space was becoming more than she
knew how to care for; she lived in the past, when times were happier, or in a
future hoping family would somehow rescue and take her in. Once she had two major strokes,
she moved to an assisted living place where she could
receive the regular meals and care, day and night, as needed; her family all
lived far away, and as her friends began to die or not be able to drive, she
didn’t make new friends so readily, and had illusions the whole family would
gather and enjoy being together.
We did this weeks before she no longer recognized us; we had an early
Thanksgiving in 2010; she loved feeling our presence, sharing chocolate cake
with her, but by the real Thanksgiving, she was moving on to a world where she
could no longer enjoy our voices, our hugs, our songs. I weep, for this had been a holiday she
loved to share, and since her death, family members have had their own
challenges and the wonder of grandkids or new friends. Jeff and I had several Thanksgivings
with my friend Curtis in Talent, and it was there we learned of Neal and
Adrienne’s engagement. Life does
go on, and to stay locked in wishing the past could happen again prevents one
from treasuring the present.
So it is 2012, Jeff will join me soon for a quiet afternoon, and we’ll
have a lovely potluck turkey with trimmings dinner with my Unitarian
family. With luck, the cold fog
will lift and we’ll enjoy a simple walk, celebrating and giving thanks for the
endings and beginnings in our lives!
What we do now can still make a difference to friends and family in our
lives.
November 22, 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment