I swear, not every blog entry I write from now on will have something to do with my dad. But, it's on my heart, so it's coming out through my words.
This Thanksgiving, there will be a void at the Thanksgiving table. This void will be added to the existing ones which once held places for my great grandmother, grandfather, and grandmother. They say one is the loneliest number, but this year, two seems pretty damn lonely to me.
When my mom asked what I wanted to do for Thanksgiving this year, I immediately had an idea. In the past we'd always done the traditional turkey, dressing, cranberry crap, green bean casserole, rolls, and pie that seem to make up the standard Thanksgiving fare. Having mom slave away over a turkey for just two people seemed silly. I told her I wanted to have Italian food and she said she didn't know how to make it because she never learned how to...dad always cooked it.
And boy, did he.
My daddy was an amazing cook. He could make pasta from scratch and I don't think I'll ever taste anything as good as his lasagna. He would make traditional Italian pastries for special occasions. He'd give out his creations to his friends at Christmas...I always thought it was hilarious he'd give cakes to his favorite spin instructors at the YMCA. Cooking is one thing I got from him, although mom is a good cook too. But she doesn't have the love for it that daddy and I had/have.
So this year, I'm cooking my first holiday meal. I'm making a traditional Italian meal in honor of dad. I'm going to attempt to make the lemon bars he'd always make for mom's birthday, but since the recipe was only in his head, that one will be tricky. But while I'm cooking tomorrow, I'm going to pretend that dad is there watching me and helping me make the pasta dough. I'm going to pretend that he'll do the dishes and complain that I'm not helping. I'm going to pretend that after our meal we'll return to the living room and get trapped watching one of those silly Hallmark holiday movies he loved so much. I'm going to pretend he's sitting in his chair, talking to Cooper the cat, acting like he can't stand the cat but he secretly loves him. I'm going to pretend that before I go to bed, I'll hug him goodnight and tell him I love him.
This will be the first major holiday without dad. Yesterday was five months to the day that he died. It's going to be a hard day. Mom isn't taking it well. There will be many tears. But alongside the tears, there will be memories. Memories of the daddy who would spend hours playing Barbies with me and taking me to pottery lessons in the summer while listening to Oak Ridge Boys tapes. Memories of the man who survived so much in his life but never complained...except about little things like papercuts. Memories of the times I made him proud and I thought his face was going to crack from smiling so wide. Memories of the times I made him laugh, a deep laugh from the belly...most of those came from making fun of my mother's odd habits in some ways. And memories of the last time I told him I loved him.
Treasure your loved ones this Thanksgiving, whether they be the family you were born with or the family you accumulated along the way. Make memories, even if they seem silly or small. Laugh together and love. Be thankful for one another.
I know I am eternally thankful for the 28 years, 132 days, 8 hours, and 2 minutes I got to spend with my daddy.
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