Dear Grandpa: Thanksgiving Edition

 

November 27th: Thanksgiving Eve

Dear Grandpa,

Yes, I know that you weren't expecting to hear from me again until early next year. However, there was some insistence on this correspondence.

My pattern of rising early has not ceased. Perhaps I have you to thank for that.

Seriously, though ... I may have risen too early this morning in my zest to get things done.

Sure, I could have gone to the other gym that opened at five, but I believed I wouldn't have time to achieve everything on my to-do list.

I've been up since three AM (give or take). As I write this, the exhaustion is tapping me on the shoulder. I haven't even taken my nighttime medication.

Although I freed Grandma from her pain, my heart is heavy. There was already a hole when you departed, but you and I know Grandma was the engine.

I am not saying you weren't a great listener. It's just Grandma knew what to say to get me through.

I miss her cadence.

Her steady resolve.

How demonstrative she was in her love, care, and advocacy for me.

Apart from the people who have become my Spirit family, I have no clue who to talk to (at least in our family) about this weight.

There is this misconception that my lack of showing emotion (i.e. "emoting") means I am coping just fine.

Yet, I have good days, okay days, and disastrous days.

Sure, I could be like Mom and express my thoughts and feelings daily on Social media.

I've always been pretty private.

I don't see these entries as pieces people would read. If they want to, that's fine. I write for my own pleasure, my own healing. Plus, it's easier to type than write for long periods (because of the arthritis).

Also, not everyone who presents as an ally is an ally. 

Some individuals take joy in sitting back and watching the world burn. Or, in that case, a person's collapse and self-destruction.

After a while, the sharing becomes overkill, and one eventually becomes desensitized.

Mom is too immersed in other issues to be an effective anchor.

I am not mad about it. It didn't surprise me. I've learned to accept this reality: who she is as a person and whether we can mesh together as two grown women.

It would help if she would quit talking about a man who isn't even on my birth certificate. Crediting him with certain attributes that I would have had anyway because of my zest for growth and knowledge. She spoke life into someone that I'd deaded (decades ago) on what was to be my birthday.

In the moment, it angered me; I felt like she disrespected you. You were (and still are) the only man I recognize as my father/daddy, and nothing anyone can say can make me feel differently.

I don't want to unpack that anymore ... at least not here.

Getting myself in this spirit this year is challenging, but I'm taking things one day at a time. I'm cooking this time; I hope this oven does my dish justice. I haven't made the cornbread dressing since my Highway to Healthy. I'm praying it won't taste too rich for my palate. I'm not ready to deviate from the original recipe yet; I'll save that experimentation for another day.

Speaking of the dish, I am going to get started on the preparation. I may hold off on posting this the next day ... in case I think of more to say.

November 28th: Thanksgiving morning

I finished the cornbread last night. Don't be alarmed by the first picture: taken with a different camera with the flash on 😄.

Giggling ... so as you can see ... the cornbread turned out well. I am quite pleased. I am adjusting the remainder of the recipe to accompany the Pyrex dish and the number of guests. 

I wanted to sleep longer. Unfortunately, even with my alarms off, I still woke up at 4:45 😖😧. It gave me time to shower and get myself together, so that's a plus. #LookingOnTheBrightSide

I can't decide whether to send voice notes or make phone calls. Unsure of where I am in terms of conversational energy, but I'll just play things by ear.

I love you. You are missed.

Happy Heavenly Thanksgiving.