Thanksgiving was tough. First one without my Grandfather.
It was tough to look at my Grandmother. She was fine, cracking jokes and talking with food in her mouth, as usual. But I had to go to the bathroom and blow the snot faucet several times and wipe away the tears. I think I caught my Dad's eyes filling a couple times too. He was the only one that mentioned Papa a couple times in the conversation.
I wanted to say something poignant about Papa, remember him on this day. But, I didn't, I couldn't, at least not out loud.
We always celebrate my Dad's birthday on Thanksgiving (it's actually the 27th)He turned 60 this year. My Dad, 60. Doesn't seem possible.
The food was wonderful, delicious. It was worth fasting for 24 hours for. Worthy of the nap afterwards.
Thanksgiving just isn't the same anymore, not because my Grandfather is gone, but because the whole family cannot be together anymore. There are circumstances that prevent this, that I cannot go into. Two Thanksgivings now.
I don't know which is harder, staying home with my son and missing the family, or being there, knowing that the whole family isn't. I hate the holidays.