When I saw the Let’s Blog Off topic of Thanksgiving memories, I must be honest when I say I wasn’t too pleased. I decided to forge ahead (this is therapy, you know) and participate anyway. Maybe someone will finally understand why I am not a fan of the holiday.
There are a couple of warnings. First, this is in no way a ploy to get sympathy. Like I said, this is my way of (hopefully) getting someone to understand me. Secondly, these experiences do not make me the proverbial crazy. They are a part of who I am.
1996 – I was single and pregnant, much to the chagrin of my parents. I just finished college and didn’t have a decent job. The baby deserved a better life than what I could provide at that time, so I decided to put the baby up for adoption. The baby’s birthday? Wednesday, 27 November 1996, the day before Thanksgiving.
Fast forward to 1997. My phone rang around 7:30PM on 20 November 1997. It was my mother telling me that my grandfather passed away from a stroke. This was quite unexpected. Grandpa had not been sick and showed no symptoms of any illness. Ironically, my paternal grandfather passed away this same day back in 1971.
Ten years later, a similar situation. My mother called me around 11:00AM on Thanksgiving 2007 (22 November). She stated that EMTs were working on my father. I threw on a clean pair of jeans and jumped into the car. Don’t ask me how I made it to the hospital because I don’t know. All I know is that the usual one hour trip to my parents’ town took half that time. I walked into the ER and saw my mother in the condolence room. I knew it wasn’t good news. She said that Dad didn’t make it. He passed while I was on the road from a massive heart attack. And guess who had to call and tell my brother in NYC? Me.
Thanksgiving should be a joyous time, but for me it isn’t. It is a time of reflection and healing. I think this year I will sit back and have a glass or two of chardonnay and celebrate the lives of those that I have lost. I know Dad would approve.