Thanksgiving

The holiday break started off fine. Yesterday, Alivia and I visited the library. She chose 5 books to check out. I picked 2. After the library we went to Gaye's house. She has Alyssa, so the girls immediately headed upstairs and Gaye and I set out to do some shopping.  I love my name, especially at Christmas time when there are so many creative representations of it. I have bought 4 already. Everything for Thanksgiving meal purchased, Alivia and I headed home. She spent the night with me last night and wanted to sleep in my bed. She crawled into bed. I tucked her in, put on the Sponge Bob DVD she had checked out at the library and by the time I had finished cleaning up the mess we made doing some craft work, she was asleep. This morning I was still laying in bed watching TV when little arms snaked their way around my neck. She signed, "I love you 'two' much. She requested more Sponge Bob and we laid in the bed cuddling and watching cartoons until time to go pick up the tamales we had ordered. On the way home I finally cleaned my car, long, long overdue. As I began some of the preparations for tomorrow, she set up a picnic in the living room. Before we could finish eating, Erin arrived to pick her up. Thanksgiving prep should have gone into high speed, but then the phone rang.

I was instantly reminded of why I hate Thanksgiving. Maybe hate is too strong, but I seriously don't look forward to it. The most devastating moment of my life occurred the day after Thanksgiving, 40 years ago. I can't believe it's been 40 years. On Thanksgiving night, 1972, I spoke to the great love of my life for the last time. I was engaged to my high school sweetheart and was looking forward to an August wedding. I would graduate high school in May and he would graduate college. We had a wonderful life planned. We would be melding two families that were already tied together through friendship. He was my brother's best friend and college roommate. Our younger brothers had been friends forever. Our parents lived 10 houses apart on the same street. It was the life you read about in cheesy novels. On the morning of November 24, 1972, as my mother, aunt, sister and I were looking at wedding ideas in a bridal shop, he was involved in a fatal accident. I don't think my life ever really got back on track. I have allowed it to seep into every up moment and down moment of my life. Never more than at Thanksgiving. I especially hate it when members of my family are traveling at Thanksgiving. They know that however crazy it may seem, they have to check in with me regularly as they travel. I can usually hold the depression at bay until Thanksgiving day, but not this year.

When my sister called earlier it was to tell me that my favorite uncle whom Alivia adores and calls Papaw Linn and who was there  when I received the news about Gaylen has gone into hospice care. The doctors say he should hang on for a couple of weeks, maybe a couple of months, but now the news that he will soon be gone from our lives will be forever linked to this holiday. I last made the long trip to see him a couple of months ago and the twinkle was all but gone then, but as I am prone to do, I believed that he would get better, be here forever. I know that I should probably take Elyse up on the offer to ride with them to Abilene to see him this weekend, but I selfishly don't think I can handle it.

I am blessed that this man fell in love with my aunt and her young son over fifty years ago, so that I could have him in my life. I am sad that I may never see him again. I need to keep reminding myself that he will be in a better place and that he will no longer be suffering. I need to be thankful this Thanksgiving instead of sad. I will start now by saying;

Thank you God for giving me my Uncle Linn. Let his passing be peaceful. Take away his pain. Welcome him into your kingdom. He served you well in life and I love him.