We went to the beach for Thanksgiving; my girls, my brother’s family, and my Dad. It was okay.

Thanksgiving was never a favorite holiday. My Mom loved it, but all the rest of us hated turkey. I never got “quality time” vibes out of it, and hate football, so it was always meh to me.

My mom always talked with pride about what a good turkey gravy she made. But, one, I like chicken gravy better. And, two, I make a better gravy than she did… even though she was the one who taught me how. No one lamented not having a turkey- we made crab bisque and shrimp tacos instead. And maybe we should feel bad for not “doing it for her”… but no one even ever really considered it.

The only Thanksgiving tradition I have ever liked was that at some point my husband and brother introduced raw oysters as appetizers. We still had the oysters. I missed Lucas for those.

My middle daughter did get out and fish with her uncle on the pier right across from the hotel. I brought a reel that didn’t fit on the pole I took with us… but we made it all work with the gear and tackle my brother brought. How much of this is actually a skill I do know and am capable of, and how much was Lucas just completely handling? The ratio tips sharply in his favor.

The fifteen year old caught the first fish too- because she’s a fish magnet, that one. Seas were crazy, waves almost to the bottom of the pier… and it was cold. I left them to it after a while.

So the holiday was okay. Being at the beach was hard as I so closely associate it with my husband. A 3 hour drive there and back with getting lost in thought to the windshield time was a bit hard. Some moments of being included on a group text of #blessed Thanksgiving messages were hard. I do, in fact, kinda miss Stovetop stuffing. My 15 year old got quite sick on the last day when we left and still has a fever now. (Pier fishing in freezing spray does have some repercussions, maybe.) And Black Friday can just fuck right off.

I am okay and also life is doing that weird thing where it’s all liminal spaces again.

This too shall pass.

And I force it’s hand to do so by hanging out with people and not isolating.

I’m alright. I am. Like… I know I’m much farther along in this whole thing than I almost have a right to be. Life, shockingly, seems livable. That thing someone told me in grief group about maybe being able to see this as a new and different chapter of life- I can wrap my head around that now. When that was told to me in July though, all I could see was the turning page it took to get to a new chapter and I gnashed my teeth at it. But now… I can look it in it’s little face and accept and forgive. Maybe that is the feeling.

I feel… sane. Again. If not even keel. The buffeting about by emotion can stop any time now but I’m guessing it won’t.

And yet I can look at this and think about how I made it here, 7 months later, without much meanness or lashing out. (Right? Didn’t I?) Maybe I don’t know. But I do know I haven’t driven anyone away… and have even made friends in this period of time… as odd as that is. It’s weird because there is so much content in the bereaved community (puke) that doesn’t apply. The saying that gets bandied about is “everyone grieves differently.” And that is very true. But sometimes I shake my head at some of it. Y’all doing it REAL differently than me, that’s fo’ sho’.

It takes all types, I guess.

And I get the underlying message… but also… maybe your experience isn’t everyone’s, either, meme maker? So make with some qualifying words up in there.

I didn’t really lose many people, and none I regret the loss of. I don’t know… maybe it’s just me but I’ve felt very supported through this whole thing, and didn’t slip into unkindness. As much as is possible to be and do or not do. (the hell kinda sentence…)

Anyway.

It’s, I guess, like a liminal version of this. But damn these holidays one after the other.

I have my youngest’s birthday coming up. Christmas. My husband’s birthday. And then New Year’s. And then Valentines and then our anniversary.

So that’s fun to gaze out at and how much does a 5 month propofol coma cost, you think?

I’ll make it through. It’s just the KNOWING that some things coming up will be hard. My therapist reminds me there were always hard things, life was not smooth sailing in the before time. But damn at least those usually caught you by surprise. You didn’t ALWAYS have the ability to predict them so fucking precisely, you know? So it’s effort to not anticipate. To breath between the contractions, as it were.

My blog’s fun to read, no? Me to hang out with? So fun.

Anyway the load bearing structure that is this cat is still holding me up and making me smile. So that’s something.

Let’s see what else can we take a 90 degree turn into from the heaviness?

For bonding time with the 15 year old, and because we needed a new show, I introduced her to the X-Files, and she is completely hooked. It holds up really well too. I think we all remember how it totally stumbles and goes off the rails at the end, but it is great in the early episodes. We’re most of the way through the first season and so I felt she had enough under her belt to appreciate the X-Files Simpsons episode.

Died laughing is the proper description. And now she laughs every time he flashes his badge in the show. It’s been a solid little distraction in the evenings, I recommend it.

I’ll leave you with some memes sprinkled in here at random. I have the energy for that today.

Oh and my husband’s cousin met with my contractor to tell him he’s done all the prep work for my bathroom wrong, contractor agrees, and the whole thing is getting ripped back to the studs again next week. I am so thankful and annoyed.

Till next time.