I didn’t grow up in a family that celebrated traditional American holidays.
Oh sure, some years the ashram community would go to the park to play soccer and have a vegetarian meal after (more on growing up in an ashram some other time) but it never felt special, never seemed like the “normal” Thanksgivings that my friends enjoyed.
Later on when I got older, invited into friends and boyfriend’s families homes for the holiday, I was excited about the food aspect. Raised as a vegetarian, however, fairly limited in what I could actually eat, I still managed to stuff myself with carbs, carbs and more carbs. (I love pumpkin pie and never met a dinner roll I wouldn’t reach for.)
A turning point was when I sat there one year after eating way too much, feeling nauseous, I thought, what are we doing here? How is this meaningful? Is overeating really what this holiday is all about? What really matters here?
My own personal Thanksgiving meaning really started to coalesce the year when my late husband Dan and I found ourselves at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance for a very necessary blood transfusion.
Cancer doesn’t take holidays off. The infusion center was open like any other day. Nurses came to work to care for patients. Someone at the blood bank was working to deliver donor blood. The pharmacy was open to supply the necessary meds for the necessary infusions. All of this, on Thanksgiving. This seemed pretty special to me, that on a holiday when the entire country shuts down, Dan could receive this care that would improve his quality of life and energy levels. They even put us in a room with a view!
Also I felt very grateful that when we arrived home in the afternoon, as my journal notes:
God bless [our friends] the Joneses. Bubba dropped off T-giving food.
Not your “normal” Thanksgiving. Under the circumstances, pretty good overall.
Until . . . I revisited my journal and was amazed to be reminded of what my brain conveniently forgot, as a survival mechanism perhaps:
Dan felt good [after transfusion] but then he started feeling worse . . . Dan to bed early feeling awful. I had a crying spell, not sure if I feel worse about losing Dan in my life one day or witnessing his physical deterioration and loss of spirit.
Was it indeed a special day? My memories say yes. I’m relieved I only remember the more positive aspects.
After this, I had one year and 54 days more with my beloved husband. I remain overwhelmingly grateful for any and all time we had together.
In the years since, I have come to associate Thanksgiving with thankfulness. No matter what I do on the actual Thursday (not overeating tends to help a lot), approaching it with gratitude is what makes it special for me.
So, each year when this holiday draws nearer, I pay more attention to deepening my awareness of all of the good things around me. I try to focus more on what I am appreciative of and grateful for and happy about. I make every effort to live in a kind of heightened awareness of each precious moment. And sometimes, I even weave it into my writing (see below.)
I appreciate you, my readers, friends and supporters. Happy Thanksgiving!
A Collection of Thankfulness Writings by Pri
Make Every Holiday Moment Count – December 2020
In November, My Thoughts Turn To Men’s Health – November 2019
A Simple Thank You – June 2017
Practicing Thankfulness – November 2015
I feel the heartache of deep love and loss, and the ache of deep gratitude, which includes a sort of joy, as I read this.
Well said - I am thankful for you and grateful for our friendship! <3