So, it's here.
The Holiday Season is upon us. The beautiful oranges and reds and yellows are surrounding us in abundance. The pumpkin pie is close enough that I can smell it. The turkey has been shot and cleaned and is ready for the roasting pan. The family is ready to gather and feast and be merry.
At least that is how it should be. But the colors that are around me are black and gray and not as pretty as in previous years. The list of what to be thankful for is slim as my mind keep focusing on what to be upset about.
This year it's the dreaded Holiday Season. If you don't know why, you probably better go back and read this post.
This is how it's going to work. Dear Hubby's Dad is not interested in having Thanksgiving dinner at his house because it is just not the same with Mom. It hurts him too much. I agree. So do my kids. They both recently conveyed to their only remaining Grandma (my mom) that being "up the hill" is just not the same without Grandma Geri. Again, I agree. Personally, I would prefer to attempt my own Thanksgiving dinner cooking for the first time ever in my own home, with my own kids and husband and without the pain of loss being thrown in my face for several hours straight.
Instead of honoring Dad's wishes, we are going to bombard him with a large get-together (as per the family tradition) and hope he can make it through...hopefully without his girlfriend. We'll see how that goes. There is merriment, food and game playing planned...all of which I would prefer to skip out on. I don't want a family get-together without the family. The whole family. My opinion doesn't count this year. The family needs to keep alive this tradition and I need to step up to the plate, pull my head from the sand and face reality head on. She's gone...and she's not coming back. Every holiday after this one will be filled with new traditions and new faces. This is the beginning of something different. And I don't like it. Not one bit.
Thanksgiving...here I come. But I never said I was ready.