When a close friend of mine opted to not stop over on Thanksgiving evening after his own family celebration had ended, I was really disappointed and got totally down about it. But I eventually realized my sadness really wasn’t about him at all. The truth is, it was more about wishing I still had a family to celebrate a season that’s always meant to be so festive.
While I do have a partner and consider him family after almost nine years of being together, there remains a profound emptiness within me this season I can’t seem to shake. Thankfully, we did manage to festively decorate both the outside and inside of our home this year, yet even in all this brightly lit cheer, my spirits remain down. Whether that’s due to this pandemic continuing to rage on so viciously, or all the division and doubt that arose from this presidential election, or simply from the fact that having chronic physical pain with no answers and no relief for so long now has taken its final toll upon me I don’t know.
Truth be told, this was my very first Thanksgiving holiday weekend ever in my life where I didn’t go see any movie in one of the local theaters, tune into some part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, go out to any stores for some Christmas shopping, or dine out at a restaurant for a Thanksgiving Day feast. Not experiencing any of that ultimately left me pondering the many Thanksgiving celebrations I enjoyed as a kid.
Thanksgiving weekends growing up were always one of my most favorite times of the year. I spent the majority of them at my Grandma Dawson’s home in Glen Cove on Long Island in New York. I have plenty of fond memories there where those holiday weekends always seemed to be rare times where my family came together with no drama whatsoever.
Our several hour drive there with holiday music playing in the car, eating lunch along the way at the same shiny silver diner once we crossed onto Long Island where I’d consistently order a delicious greasy breakfast or a turkey club and fries, finishing either with a huge piece of cake, then playing hours of ping-pong in my Grandmother’s basement upon arrival, smelling her homemade popovers baking in the oven early the next morning, watching every single moment of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while eating them loaded with butter, dining on a huge turkey feast later that afternoon, pigging out on tasty desserts several hours after that, then playing board games and cards late into the holiday night, excitedly standing in a very long line at a jewelry store with my father the next morning where we always attempted to win a real diamond in a large bowl of mostly cubic zirconia, catching a blockbuster at the Galleria multiplex later that day, eating out at this fancy restaurant on the waterfront when it was over where I’d always get the most incredible slice of ricotta cheesecake, having awesome turkey leftover sandwiches the next day where I’d load stuffing and cranberries in between my slices of toast, taking walks and drives around the area to see all the holiday lights, then finally heading home on Sunday with gifts in tow to put under our tree, these are just some of the many tender memories I have of Thanksgiving weekends with my family growing up.
So yes, I miss that childhood family, even with all those addictions and mental health issues that plagued us. I consistently felt loved by them during each of these holiday seasons when they came around. While my parents may have had their serious shortcomings, it was this time of the year that I always felt loved and cared for. I only wish I felt that in my present life.
So, if you happen to have a family that you get to spend this holiday season with, please do your best to treasure and love them unconditionally. Cherish every moment you have with them, as there will come a time where you don’t have a holiday season with them anymore and are left with nothing but your beautiful memories of them. Memories that many of us in the world are holding onto dearly right now, especially during these trying times, and especially when a festive season isn’t feeling so very festive.
Peace, love, light, and joy,
Andrew Arthur Dawson
