They weren’t kidding when they said the first year of grieving is the worst, but I’ve learned through the books I’m reading, the stories I’ve heard, and now through my own experience, it’s in times of darkness when bright moments shine the most.
I’ve been dreading Thanksgiving for three months since my mom passed and now as I reflect upon last week, some of the memories are so sweet and special. Others are really hard. It was truly people and my community that carried me through the week.
I always do a Thanksgiving recap post about the day, but this year, I want to share some moments from the entire week that are sitting firmly in my heart.
Last Tuesday, my youngest son, Case, performed in his Thanksgiving preschool program. I was worried how I would react because my mom was very close to the faculty at the preschool, picked up Case twice a week, and hadn’t missed a program in five years. This was the second program this year. Nothing could be worse than Grandparents’ Day back in September when I hid in the bathroom and cried until my friend who teaches at the preschool searched me out.
Last week’s program wasn’t nearly as bad. Todd’s family drove in to see him, and so the table was busy with conversation and Case was excited to have a lot of folks there. All of the sweet kiddos did an outstanding job, thanks to the amazing staff. I was very proud of my little Running Wolf.
After the program, Case rode with Todd’s family to Albemarle. I couldn’t leave my dad alone on his first Thanksgiving without my mom in 53 years, so I decided to stay here while the boys spent Thanksgiving with Todd’s lively family. I wanted them to have fun and be happy. I don’t trust my emotions these days. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m a mess. So for many reasons, I just needed to stay here.
On Tuesday evening, my close friend and I decided to take our seven-year old sons on a date. Our boys are best friends and our two families are constantly together, so we thought it would be fun to get dressed up, dine at a fancy restaurant, let the boys order for themselves, and have “grown-up” conversation. Let me tell you, it was so much fun. They were utterly precious, the food was delicious, and we all just kept saying how we want to do again soon. In essence, we moms got to take our boys on their first double date ever. A special part of the week, indeed.
On Wednesday morning, Brooks and Todd left and I was alone in the house. I decided to make the best of it. I turned on Hallmark and watched more cheesy Christmas movies than I care to admit. I cleaned a little and caught up on some work. By mid-afternoon, I was going a little stir crazy, so I drove around town and snapped some photos for a Small Business Saturday post I was prepping. As the day wore on and night settled in, I started to feel more and more fragile. I stayed out taking photos as long as I could and even went to a favorite restaurant and ate truffle fries, enjoyed a local beer, and chatted with the bar tender and some out-of-towners. I took a few more evening pictures. I felt myself procrastinating. The warmth and noise of the restaurant was kind of nice.
When I got home, it hit me really hard. All of it. And I cried for a long time, which deep down I knew needed to happen. Friends were texting to check on me. I told one that I was trying to be grateful for 36 quintessential Thanksgivings where my sister and I broke up cornbread and biscuits for the dressing in our pajamas while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
The advice from my friend was, “Carry that with you.”
I’m going to try my best.
The boys called to Face Time and I couldn’t talk without crying. I could tell they were worried but at this point, they’re kind of used to it. They were really sweet and called early the next morning to check on me.
When I awoke on Thanksgiving day, the sunlight brought cheerier thoughts. I made some strong coffee and turned on the Macy’s parade while getting ready for my dad to come over. When he arrived, we went to our local soup kitchen and helped serve Thanksgiving dinner. It was the perfect place for us to be. We needed to be somewhere much different than our traditional Thanksgivings and we needed to be in a place where we were lifting up others. He and I are both are fueled by that.
The crew that cooked were beyond talented. The dressing even tasted like my mom’s. When I commented how delicious it was, one of the ladies smiled and said it was her family recipe. The Open Door is a gem. I’m so grateful to have it as part of my community.
After Thanksgiving, I decided to forego my regular devotional and begin an Advent series. The first suggested scripture was the one below. All I could think about were the quiet, unassuming servants at the soup kitchen, the beautiful communion among so many different individuals, and the sensitivity with which we should all interact with those who are struggling or in need. This scripture also made me think of the recent election and how even thousands of years ago, we knew that yelling and force gets us nowhere.
The Servant of the Lord
42 “Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will bring justice to the nations.
2 He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
3 A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
4 he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”
After serving at the soup kitchen, my dad came back to my house. We alternated between watching Christmas movies and listening to classic country music while making homemade nachos and enjoying a bottle of good red wine. My dad told me stories I’d never heard, and he slept in one of the boy’s twin bed. We both rested well that night being in the same house.
The next day he headed home to prepare for my sister’s arrival while I did a little shopping here in town. I’m happy to say I didn’t hit up one chain all day Friday or Saturday, but I found some outstanding deals in some of my local favorite shops. I’ll also go ahead and admit that I took full advantage of Cyber Monday sales at Old Navy and DSW, so I’m not bemoaning anyone for shopping in chain stores. Nevertheless, there’s nothing like the feeling of shopping local.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my sister, brother-in-law, and niece arrived Friday evening. My sis and I had talked and cried over the phone numerous times throughout the week, but I really needed to hug her in the flesh. And it was wonderful to do so. We ate out on Friday night and Saturday, everyone came to our house to attend a craft fair with local vendors which was outstanding. We walked away with some amazing finds.
After that, my sister, dad, and I were able to get away alone for a while and enjoy a wine tasting at a local wine shop. We’ve been trying to do this anytime we’re together. There’s an intimacy among the three of us right now that needs to be nurtured, and I’m proud we’re making it happen.
Saturday night, we all went to Sierra Nevada Brewery which was insanely packed. At one point, my little niece started to lose it (and rightly so). She and I went on elevator rides pushing random buttons and took selfies in a vacant hallway. It was definitely a high point of the evening. I love this little stinker so much.
The boys and I spent the night at my dad’s house that night so we could have a big family slumber party. We stayed up until midnight watching Christmas with the Kranks. My sister and her family had to leave Sunday which felt entirely too soon.
Once they left, all the boys (including my dad) and I drove out to a tree farm north of my hometown and cut down a Christmas tree. My dad was just going along for the ride and to get out of the house, but once we got there, he decided to get a little tree as well. We were so glad he did. After the tree farm, we went into the nearby downtown which is where my dad attended college and where my parents lived when they first married.
I later thought how serendipitous it was that we ended up there. My dad was simply glowing as he retold stories from the early 1960s when he was a married college student working at a diner in downtown Mars Hill and living with my mom in a tiny trailer behind a farmhouse. We even drove to the site of the trailer. The farmhouse is still there, but the trailer park has sense been turned into a subdivision. The boys loved hearing his stories and thought it was super cool the same barber shop my dad used in college still exists. With Brooks and my dad being collectors, we also stopped and checked out an abandoned general store. It was an unexpectedly fun day.
That night we decorated the tree, and it felt like every other ornament we pulled out reminded me of my mom. She adored Christmas and was always buying us ornaments. Below are a few special ones that she either bought or I bought when I was with her. It’s hard to be sad when two little boys are chattering about Christmas and Santa and our elf coming back, so I wasn’t sad, per se. But it was certainly different.
There are no pictures of turkey carving or all of us dressed up in fancy autumn attire. In fact, as I looked through my photos, they seemed so random, yet so special. No formal, posed pictures, just spontaneous shots of happy moments.
I did find this photo I took in October and it goes along with my feelings and the famous quote by Hemingway that says, “We’re all broken, that’s how the light gets in.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Aimee Bumgarner says
Susanna, I have been thinking of you a lot lately. Everything, joy and sorrow alike, seems to be magnified this time of year. I haven’t known what to say. This is a road I haven’t walked yet, and I’ve been so afraid I will bumble and stumble and say the wrong thing. I pray for you daily. I thought you might take comfort from these words my dear friend Lanier wrote when her father died two years ago. http://laniersbooks.com/2015/12/19/seeds-of-love/ Sending you, Todd and the boys much love.