Yes, things are far different this year than even in bad years past.
Beya, Norm and I have been discussing our first upcoming major land mine. Thanksgiving. Ever since sissy died I have been talking about leaving town for Turkey Day and we just might do it this time. I don't know. We have several options that are we mulling over, among them having it at home and let the chips fall where they may although I am not looking forward to that choice.
Given all the talk about Thanksgiving I can't help but remember the last Thanksgiving sissy was alive. I've had the same image replaying on a loop in my head.
Norm, the kids and I went that day around noon to see his mom and that side of the family and we were there for about an hour or two. As we pulled into our lightly snowy driveway I had no idea what our house would hold. If mom would even be there or if sissy had been having an exceptionally rough day and needed Beya, if Beya would be cooking, if the house would be empty, if our home would be full. It was really kind of representative of where we were in our lives at that moment, everything in the air, never knowing where we were going to land or what was going to be waiting for us. Our lives the great unknown.
I opened the front door and my heart leaped for the scene that was upon me was one that I never could have dreamed of. Sissy was there, laughing while laying down on the love seat, a fire crackling in the background, warm, Thanksgiving-y aromas coming from a kitchen that Beya was keeping busy in and having a conversation with sissy. The kids, Norm and I bounded in, shaking the light snowfall from our coats, full of questions for sissy, how was she feeling, how long had she been over, when we were going to eat, when was Josh coming over, how long had she been up, how long since she had thrown up, if she was cold, did she need a blanket or a pillow.
This scene replays on repeat. Even though our evening ended not nearly as well as it started (sissy got sick, it took her forever to eat, all she could do was peck at her food in order for it to stay down, she became extremely weak and tired) the picture that is forever in my mind when I hear about anything Thanksgiving is walking through my front door, sissy in her green sweater, laying down oh so comfy and laughing, her bald head exposed.
So no matter what we decide to do this November I will be haunted, and desperately wishing for, a bald headed, green sweater wearing, laughing sister.