Thoughts on Thanksgiving Gratitude or It’s All Relative
As the Thanksgiving holiday arrives, ASJA Confidential re-shares a piece written by ASJA member Sandra Gurvis. The sentiment remains as strong today as it did when first published in 2017. ASJA would like to wish all of our members a safe and happy holiday season.
Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays (second only to Halloween) but this year it’s going to be bittersweet. Throughout my entire life, it’s been with and about family but for the first time in 33 years, my son Alex will not be there. He passed away unexpectedly on January 1.
Last Thanksgiving, he and I went out to dinner, alone, at a local restaurant. That was also a first, but he had formally separated from his wife so we couldn’t have the usual Thanksgiving meal with her and her family. His sister, with whom he had a difficult relationship, lived out of town as did my ex-husband. And there was no way I was going to wrestle a 20 pound turkey into submission, abandoning 90 percent of it to freezer oblivion, periodically reminding me of my wastefulness as I pawed through a dozen individual-sized containers of leftovers in search of sugar-free Fudgsicles.
An Army veteran, Alex struggled with physical and mental problems and addiction. But he was still bright and funny and was working on learning how to be accountable for his various actions and decisions. We mostly talked about that during the meal, although it was hard to ignore the parties around us who seemed to be getting louder and louder in their attempts to show everyone else around them what a good time they were having. Although the food was delicious, we were both glad to be out of there. Even more than Christmas—for me, anyway—Thanksgiving is a holiday meant for home and hearth and whatever weirdness may result when you get together a bunch of family members who actually have to interact with each other instead of being distracted by say, having to run errands or go to work. (This was before stores started opening on Thanksgiving)
After we got back to my place, he wanted to rent an on-demand movie. Specifically something called “War Dogs.” Really, Alex? Like I wanted to see a bunch of dudes being blown apart or shooting at each other or lighting each other’s farts to pass the time before the next skirmish.
No, no, he insisted. It’s a comedy. With Miles Teller and Jonah Hill, the latter of whom I constantly confuse with gross-out king Seth Rogen. You will like it, Mom, he said. Channeling past experiences (Beavis and Butthead, Eminem videos, the entire spectrum of Simpsons-esque cartoons), my expectations were low. But I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was it entertaining and compelling but it offered an intelligent commentary about military waste and the consequences of cheating the system for one’s own material ends. I, too, sometimes forgot that Alex listened to NPR and classical music and we shared the same sensibility about many things (except for politics, especially after the recent Presidential election).
All in all, it had been a good day. We hugged good-bye; he had a long drive back to Springfield, about 45 minutes away, where he had moved. I had no idea that would be the last time he and I would spend any appreciable amount of time together. But somehow, deep down inside and looking back on our many conversations during the last few months before he died, I think, on some level, he knew.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is no matter how difficult things may be at the moment, there’s always something to be grateful for. Even with a child who battled addiction for many years, whom I miss every day of my life. During the worst part of my mourning, I would be hard-pressed to list three things each day to be happy for, a practice that I had started several months prior to his passing. (A low point: Winning free coins and tokens from the phone game Cookie Jam.) I’m grateful that he is at peace and and also that I can do the work that I love, despite annoyances too lengthy to recount in the short space allotted here.
This year, I will spend Thanksgiving with my daughter and her husband, Alex’s widow and their child, my five-year-old granddaughter, Hope. We are all still grieving in very different ways that might sometimes clash. But no “pity, party of one – your table’s ready” for me, as he used to say when I would become upset or frustrated. Instead I will remember this: “Take it easy, Mom, and be happy for what you have.”
Happy Thanksgiving to all of us (even our Canadians). May you have much to be grateful for.