The First Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, ideally, is about family and friendship, and being thankful for both and all the wonderful bonds that link us together. Unfortunately for me, when it comes to the holiday, I have some bad news to share: Thanksgiving 2022 was probably the second worst day of my life. It was the day my father, ill and in pain, was taken by ambulance to the closest E.R.

Sunday, November 27th 2022, was probably the worst day of my life: it was the day he passed away in the ICU at Hospital.

I look around and I know my family is struggling: My mother, my brothers, my Aunt, my Cousins, are all feeling the sharp pangs of his absence again, and probably really for the first time - this time last year there was still a chance and a hope that he would be okay in time for the next celebration; this is the year we are officially, and sadly forever, without him.

But as strange as it to openly admit (especially to strangers on the internet) I, his only daughter, don't feel those pangs anymore. In fact, I don't think I actually feel as sad as I used to (or even in the way people might still expect of me). Getting to this day, a full year later, and realizing that I'm still alive and still whole, has been more of a relief to me than I think I can ever express. One of the worst (and I mean the absolute worst!) days of my life happened to me, and I'm still safe, alive, and whole, one year later. The sun came up again, we had a beautiful clear day (just like last year) and we got to celebrate and spend some much needed time with family (ironically, just like last year, too).

The last time I heard my dad speak to me was officially 365 days ago; the last time I heard him laugh and clown around was 368 days ago - that was also the last time I heard him tell me 'I love you' to me. And even though those memories and thoughts still make me sad enough to cry, they no longer break my heart. Because I know they were real. Because I know they still matter. Because I know, if he were alive today, he wouldn't want me to spend my life in mourning... hell, he'd probably be embarrassed by all the fuss we're making about him!

I once wrote that my dad and I were kindred-spirits, and I still stand by that. He and I could understand each other in a way that I'm not sure can ever be fully articulated; he understood me in a way that I don't think anyone else in the world will ever be able to. There are three things I feel, without a doubt, he would've said to me at least once since that day, November 27th, 2022:

1. Go home, Ace (he'd called me 'Ace' since I was a teenager) - I don't want you to see this next part...

2. You have to be strong now, for these next few months... your mother and brothers need you...

And 3. Forget about me - you have to go and live your own life...

Dad, you see, had a way of cutting straight through the B.S; he wasn't afraid to tell you how he really felt.

The thoughts and memories (and even 'knowings') of my dad still make me sad enough to burst into tears. They always will I now know. But they are tears now marked by joy and understanding, as much as they are marked by sadness. I once heard that the best way we can honor our loved ones is to honor the memory of what they stood for; what they would want from us, the ones they had to leave behind.

My dad would want me to Live. To really, truly Live the way he did. Not to simper and sob behind a wall of grief for the rest of my life - he would truly despair in that, I think.

Now, that is not how everyone will interpret their grief in life. And that's certainly not to say that after one year you'll feel whole and well again. That has only been my experience in the matter of losing a parent. There is no time-limit to grief, and there are no wrong turns. This has only been my own experience. This is only my own conclusion.

It has not been easy. It has definitely been unpleasant. But, for me, it has come to it's end. Now it's time to move forward. Now it's time to live again.

Thanksgiving, ideally, is about family and friendship, and being thankful for both, and all the wonderful bonds that link us together. And that is exactly how I plan to celebrate every single Thanksgiving, starting today. Our time is precious, and tomorrow is not promised. It only makes sense to cherish all that we have worth loving in our lives. I mean, that's how my dad raised me - how else can I see the world?