It's All Coming Back to Me

For a few days prior to, then through Thanksgiving, up until last night, I struggled to remember Thanksgiving 2021. A fragment of memory would return, but I knew I was missing important things about Dad’s last Thanksgiving. It seemed vital to me to remember, especially on this first major holiday without him.

Thank you, Facebook Memories feature. This morning the record of last year’s Turkey day appeared. First, the videos of the wild turkeys that always visited on Thanksgiving. And then the photos. My eldest daughter and her family joined us for the holiday. Here’s what I wrote:

We had a lovely Thanksgiving. My eldest girl, her husband, and their three kids joined us. Good thing, too, as they took over the cooking pretty early so I wound up spending a lot of time with my grands. My grandson and I made the stuffing and he made the sofrito for the green beans. Also, I learned that I don’t have to make 27 side dishes. My daughter would have none of that. “Are you crazy?” Yes. yes, I clearly am. But also still wrapped in the joy of having them with us.

I’ve worried that my need to remember is so urgent. Why is it necessary? It’s because it’s not just about the person who is no longer with us. It’s about all the people who loved him, who love us and whom we love who are still here. I don’t want to forget my grandson standing by me in the kitchen as we cooked together while he made the sofrito. Or catching a glimpse of my oldest granddaughter in conversation with her great-grandfather about politics and ice skating while the youngest girl sat on his lap. How my eldest and her husband took over when I tired.

And now maybe they won’t forget either.