The First Thanksgiving 2022

Today is a day of firsts—the first time I’ve spent Thanksgiving with my brother and his family. The first Thanksgiving that wild Turkeys will take refuge on my Dad’s property and no one will be there to celebrate them. My first Thanksgiving in Florida. The first Thanksgiving that I’m not responsible for making the Thanksgiving dinner. My first spatchcock turkey. The first Thanksgiving without Dad. And I’m fine. Except…

…I’ve been trying to remember last Thanksgiving. I can’t. Not a bit of it. And I’m not sure why. I remember all the others. Thanksgivings at both sets of grandparents until I was four. Gathering to eat with the troops in the Mess Halls of my father’s commands. The first Thanksgiving away from my family. The dinners I made in my own homes with guests when I was single and for family and friends during my marriages. But not a wisp of memory from last year though I do know that I made Thanksgiving dinner.

When my mom died, I promised myself that Dad would not be alone on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Ever. And I kept that promise. Before I moved to be near him and eventually into his home, I would buy all the ingredients for dinner, load them into the car and along with any of my available daughters (as well as their random girlfriends or boyfriends) we’d make the 2-hour drive across the Bay Bridge. I’d cook dinner there.

Nope. I can’t remember last year.

Wait. As I write this a little comes back to me. Dad had been ill off and on since May 2021 and had been hospitalized in the fall. He was still recuperating by Thanksgiving. He suggested that we eat out for Thanksgiving rather than my preparing a big meal. “Your mom and I did that,” he said. “You’re tired. I don’t want you to work so hard.

“No, I want to do it, but how about roast chicken rather than turkey?” I compromised.

“That’s fine with me,” he said. “What’s the difference between turkey and chicken anyway.”

That’s all I remember.

This is the first time I’ll celebrate with Thanksgiving with my brothers, my sister-in-law, her mom, my nephew, my niece and her family. I’m responsible for potatoes, stuffing, brown butter corn, and a cheeseboard. I can’t wait.

As usual I’ll miss seeing my girls and their families. I’ll miss the random guests who were always welcome. I’ll miss driving to Assateague the day after with a stop at the slots on the way home where Dad always won, and I always lost. Oh, I remembered something. We did all that last year.

While my brother spatchcocked the turkey this morning and I enjoyed my coffee, we talked about Dad. He is missed so much, but we know he’d be so happy we are all together. I’m thankful.

And now I remember that, too. I was thankful last year. Thankful for my girls, the rest of my family, my life, the time I had left with Dad. Thankful for so much. I still am.

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all.