Remembrances from Thanksgiving

This year I find myself having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit. Maybe it’s because of the stress of the past several months which have taken a toll on our family, particularly me. Or maybe it’s just more realization that as we get older, there are so many changes in our lives that we have no control over. People, both family and friends, have passed out of our lives for various reasons, and many times we either cannot, or do not, get them back.

To compound these feelings of the holiday blues, this year there have been a number of serious illnesses and deaths of friends’ family members that have added to the remembrances of loss I’ve been feeling. This is also the first year our daughter is living in her own home with her new husband, and although we’re very happy for them, it’s still a bittersweet feeling having our only child married and starting her own family. And hosting the Thanksgiving dinner for the first time in her new home!

Thanksgiving was always a fun-filled time when we were all growing up. At least that’s how I remember it. There was always tons of food, and so many people crowded around the table. Everyone was happy, and getting along, making jokes with each other, as well as talking about plans for Christmas and visits to Santa Claus. It was definitely a simpler time, at least through my eyes as a youngster. As far as I knew, there were no worries about money, jobs, health issues, or any other number of problems that affect our families.

Or maybe as a child, we just didn’t notice those problems.

Unfortunately I only vaguely remember a few holidays spent with my family with my dad also there. Being only eight years old when he died wasn’t easy, because it robbed me of so many memories I’d never have the opportunity to make. I do have some fuzzy ones in which we were all seated at my grandmother’s huge ornate walnut dining table, with her and my mom and my aunts bringing in huge plates of food, and my grandfather bowing his head and saying his quick “grace” before we all dug in to eat. But they’re that…fuzzy.

I have much better memories of those later family holiday dinners at my mother’s house. The food was wonderful, but it wasn’t picture perfect, nor served in all matching china. And we weren’t all dressed up in our best clothes. We were comfortable, in our casual clothes, and my mom and my aunts were all still wearing their aprons when we sat down to eat. We “toasted” with iced tea and soda, while my two uncles grabbed food from the plates that were passed around, with Uncle Jay dropping almost as much on the floor as went on his plate (and since he was usually the only one wearing a tie, you can imagine food went on that, too!)! The television was on in the next room, and everyone was talking at the same time. And as soon as we kids finished eating, we got up and either played games, argued good-naturedly with each other, or watched a movie on tv.serving dinner

Those days were fun. We enjoyed being together, and never even thought about not being the “perfect” picture postcard family gathering. We were Just Plain Family.

As the years went by, things changed, as they always do. Children grew up and had children of their own, and holiday dinners weren’t the same, because my aunts and uncles now spent holidays with their grown children and THEIR children. The big family dinners continued for a while, just not at holidays. My husband and I continued Thanksgiving traditions at my mother’s as long as possible, and usually with my aunt and her grown children.

As the years fast forward, holidays become increasingly difficult because our special loved ones are living now only in our memories, and not seated at the table with us. Those memories of Thanksgivings past can sometimes hurt more than they can make us smile. In my dreams I imagine the ones who are already there getting together in heaven to still share a very special Thanksgiving dinner, probably in my mother’s heavenly mansion. With Uncle Jay still spilling food on his tie! And waiting for us to join them.
turkey-560
I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. I know many friends going through similar feelings. It’s normal, and it’s a part of life. We’re expected to automatically be happy because it’s the start of the holiday season. Many of us are almost forced to hide our feelings behind smiles that we make ourselves wear, because we think we’re the only ones feeling this way. But there are more out there than you know.

The next time you start feeling like that, don’t be embarrassed. If you’re having a tough time, you’re not the only one. If you’re hurting, you’re hurting. And it’s OK to feel that way. Call a close friend and talk about it. If you know someone who’s hurting, call them and welcome them into your home. You never know how significant a small gesture can be to someone this time of year. Nor do you know what new memories will be made.

Be Thankful

Thanksgiving Day is just a few days away. A day that families traditionally get together to enjoy a huge meal and each other’s company. It seems we take so long to prepare all the food, put out our best dishes and silverware, and then in just a quick 20-30 minutes, it’s all over with, the table is cleared, food put away, and then everyone goes their separate ways until the next time. Is that your day?

But what if you don’t have family nearby? What if you can’t get home to be with them? Do you have friends to visit and enjoy the traditional meal with?

For many people, Thanksgiving is a stressful holiday. I said that myself just the other day. We’re bombarded with ads about family meals, showing families getting together for joyous times and fellowship, everyone laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Is that really how it is at your Thanksgiving celebration?

Many people at this time of year don’t have the luxury of these traditional family meals anymore, because their families are too spread out, or no longer with them. Many people don’t even have good friends they can go and eat their Thanksgiving meal with. It becomes not only stressful, but lonesome, and a very sad and depressing time.
SEA_TG_GP0392

So this Thanksgiving day, why not take the time to remember your friends and neighbors who may not have somewhere to go and enjoy a Thanksgiving meal. If you’re having a big dinner, set the table for one or two more people and invite them over. If you’re going somewhere, call your host and ask if you could bring someone with you. After all, this holiday is about being thankful and grateful for what you have. And one of the best ways to do that is to think of others who may be less fortunate than you.

Yes, it’s something we’ve heard a lot, but this year, why not stop and do more than think about it. Do something about it. The year my mother passed away (a month before Thanksgiving) was particularly hard for my remaining small family. I didn’t know what we were going to do, and how I was going to get through the holiday. All the memories of those past Thanksgivings were filling my mind, and making me so nostalgic and sad I didn’t even want to have a holiday! Then some very good friends asked us to come share their Thanksgiving meal with them, and it was a gesture I’ll never forget. It meant so much to us at a very difficult time. Good deeds are always rewarded, and this is the time to step out.

Happy Thanksgiving! Be blessed!

Memories Lighting My Mind

But what if the memories suddenly start fading….or if the light doesn’t always come on any more?

Most of us, if we are fortunate, will have our parents live long enough that some (hopefully only a few) of their memories will start to blur. It’s not something they can help, and trust me, they are just as upset over it as we are. Maybe more. Because these are their memories. Memories of days before we were ever born; before we were ever even thought of, because they were still children at the time. Many of their stories take place before they even met the person they would share their life with, and eventually become the two parents that made us.

We all have memories that we don’t want to fade. Memories of growing up. Fun times and special dinners with family members and friends when we were children…when we had no idea what the world would bring when we grew up. We remember high school, our first love, our prom, our graduation, and other special events.

Our parents remember those things, too. If only I had known years ago how precious those thoughts and memories were. If only I had asked the questions then that I want to ask now. And can’t.

Unfortunately, life intervenes, and we don’t always do and ask the things we should.

As our parents age, unless they, and we, are very lucky, their memories do start to fade somewhat. Sometimes they recognize it and talk to us about it, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they try to avoid the subject and try to go on as if nothing is happening out of the ordinary.

Ask questions while you still can, and help your parents cherish their memories. Write down the answers, maybe in a special journal you’ve bought just for that particular purpose. One day you’re going to want to be able to remember those stories, just as your parents told them to you. Because as they relate those stories, if you close your eyes, you can almost see in your mind the pictures they are re-living through their words. journal

Artists paint pictures on a canvas for us to see with our eyes; writers are artists who paint with words and create pictures in our minds. Our parents should be the artists we most want to paint for us while they are still able to do so.

What pictures do you want your parents to paint for you? What pictures do you wish they’d painted for you before they left? Take those pictures still in your mind and remember them before it’s too late.

Dreaming of My Mother’s Wedding

Hanging in our guest room closet is a yellowed and torn lacy dress that has undoubtedly seen better – and happier – days. And it carries memories that I wish I could see and hear. And since today is my husband and my wedding anniversary, I thought it appropriate to post this story today.

I found the dress in my mother’s attic many years ago. It had been hanging there since my mom and dad moved into their first and only home sometime back in 1940 or so. They were married on June 18, 1938. 77 years ago. And the dress hung there until I had to clean out her home eight years ago.

I have this one picture of her and my dad on their wedding day. And I cherish this photo.
Mom and Dad Wedding
I wish I knew more about their wedding day. But my mother was an extremely private person, and as much as she loved my father, I don’t know a lot about their early days together. I never had the nerve to ask, because my dad passed away when I was only eight years old. And even though I was an adult in my fifties’ with a teenage daughter when my mom left us, I had never asked her much about her wedding, because I knew the memories would make her cry. Because of all the special times she never got to share with the only man she ever loved.

And although I don’t totally know all of their story, I want to share some of what I know, and some of what I can only imagine.

My mom fell in love with my dad the first time she saw him in high school. I can imagine them laughing together after school, and him coming over to see her at my grandfather’s farm. I’m sure they spent a lot of time together on that big front porch, and rocking in that old porch swing I wish we still had! Times were different in the 1930’s, and I can imagine that my grandfather kept a close eye on the young man who was “courting” his daughter.

I’m sure when my dad left for college, my mom was unbelievably lonesome for him. She went to college at a school close to home, but he attended college in Williamsburg, which back then was a long way from their homes! Although I’m sure they wrote letters back and forth to each other a lot, since phone calls were so expensive, one of the regrets I have is that I never found any of their letters to each other, and my mother kept almost EVERYTHING. What a treasure that would have been!

It must have felt like an eternity for them until college graduation happened. And my mom and dad were finally able to start seeing each other regularly again, in between her teaching school and my dad working as a salesman for his uncle. Obviously, they both knew they were meant to be together. And like every young girl totally in love, she dreamed of her wedding day!

On Christmas Eve, 1937, my dad brought her Christmas present over. She was expecting (and hoping for) a ring. And I can only imagine the disappointment on her face and in her heart when my dad handed her this big box, beautifully wrapped I’m sure, that was her gift. My mom being the lady she was, opened it, and tried not to show her disappointment when she saw it was a hand-crocheted pillow with the initial “C” on it. (Since her name started with an “L” she should’ve known something else was coming, but…) Evidently her disappointment really showed when she told my dad how much she liked it, and he asked her what was wrong (smiling to himself, I’m sure). And then he pulled out the REAL gift! And that ring was…and still is…beautiful! Because I have it now (and the pillow)!

Knowing my dad, and the times they lived in, I’m sure he’d already talked to my grandfather and had his permission. And he’d probably been a lot more nervous asking him than our future son-in-law was when he talked to Ashley’s dad! So now they were officially engaged! And here’s the young bride to be!

From that evening until their wedding six months later, I’m sure all my mom did was count the days until she was a bride. Her two brothers and her older sister were already married, and I’m sure she’d dreamed of her wedding day since the day she first saw my dad.

Weddings in that era were usually quite simple and for the most part, included only family members, and maybe a few close friends. Being a farming community, money was tight, and wedding expenses were kept at a minimum. A few flowers, a wedding cake, and food made by family and friends, and that was basically it. Sometimes there was another couple standing up with the bride and groom, and sometimes there wasn’t. And even more unfortunate, there were very few wedding photographers to memorialize the day. I’m happy to have the one picture!

Mom and Dad had a small, simple wedding, but nonetheless perfect for them. I do know a few bits and pieces, but here is where my dreams step in, as I imagine her on her wedding day as a young woman of 25, the same age as my own daughter….

My mom was an excellent seamstress, and most likely she made her wedding gown, sewing every stitch carefully because it was the most important dress she’d ever make. (I so wish it had been better preserved.) She wanted to look absolutely perfect when she stepped down the stairs to meet her husband-to-be.

I’m sure she woke up that warm and sunny morning quite early, because she was so excited. Downstairs, her mom, and probably some other relatives, were already preparing food for after the ceremony. I’ve never found a picture of their wedding cake, but I can imagine that someone in the family, most likely her sister-in-law Ruth, who was an excellent cook and seamstress, made it herself as a gift for them.

As the bride-to-be, I can imagine my mom sitting in front of her vanity mirror, carefully arranging her hair and putting on just a touch of makeup. Her hands probably shook a bit, and even though I never remember my mother wearing nail polish, I can see her applying it for that day. After all, her engagement ring was about to receive its mate!

The wedding was set for early afternoon, at my grandparents’ house. Her older sister Mary was there, wearing a light blue dress, and would hold her bouquet for her during the ceremony. Although she would have been called the Matron of Honor today, back then she was just there standing with her sister, and most likely her husband was standing with my dad.

How I would love to have heard the conversation between the two sisters that morning! It’s hard to imagine my mom as the young woman she once was, and I’m sure she was just as nervous and scared and excited as brides are today. I can also imagine their younger sister, who would have only been 13 at the time, rushing into the room and wanting to be a part of the action as well. And most likely being shooed away because they had important things to discuss that she was too young to hear!

As she put on her wedding gown, and her sister helped her zip it up, I can picture her turning to the mirror and watching as her veil was attached, and wondering who that woman in the mirror was. She was becoming a different person…no longer a single lady, but now a WIFE! Wondering what changes that would bring…

Rachel and Clay were married in the living room of her childhood home. Everyone was standing, because there wasn’t a lot of room for extra chairs, and she had a large family, who were all in attendance. I can picture her walking down the stairs on my grandfather’s arm, dressed in his best Sunday suit, nervous but smiling, my mom with her veil over her face, and carrying a huge bouquet of roses, as was the style for brides at that time. All she could see was my dad’s face. And as she walked down the stairs, all he could see was her.

And they were married. No fanfare, no row of bridesmaids or groomsmen. No sit-down dinner with champagne toasts and dancing. No elaborate decorations. Just a simple ceremony, cake cutting and pure happiness. A dream come true for a young bride and groom. A brief honeymoon, and then on to start their life together.

Mom and Dad Young

And yes, until his premature passing a brief twenty years later, they did live happily ever after.

Photo Sources: Personal files