November 27th, 2008 (Thanksgiving Day) - A typical, Pacific Northwest fall day. Kinda cloudy, and kinda damp. I woke up and tried to summon the energy to get downstairs and into the kitchen to get the candied yams and macaroni n’ cheese done. On holiday’s my family won’t let me escape without making them. And I knew I didn’t want to just "thow" these dishes together. This wasn’t just another Thanksgiving. It was my Mom’s last Thanksgiving.
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On October 8th, Mom was diagnosed with Stage 3 Stomach Cancer. This vibrant, 76 y.o. woman, who was still working part-time and enrolled in community college taking computer classes, was suddenly in the fight of her life. There was talk about possible treatment, but she knew and I knew. She wouldn’t be here another Thanksgiving.
Mom and I were incredibly close. I’ve said this in other diaries I’ve written about her - she was my very best friend. We didn’t talk much about the cancer with each other - Both of us choosing to talk to other people about that, and saving our words for what really mattered.
So last Thanksgiving morning, having prayed for peace and strength, I went downstairs. Mom was downstairs on the couch, just waking up. She had been with me the whole week. We had a great time. We laughed, told stories, and loafed around. I got busy in the kitchen. Peeling yams and boiling noodles. At one point, I caught a glimpse of Mom’s face. She had this wistful look in her eye watching me in the kitchen. All the times I had watched her in the kitchen, the roles were reversed that day.
Later, with yams and mac n’ cheese in hand, we headed to my nieces house for the family celebration. The standing rule on all holidays - dinner did not begin until the Queen arrived. Mom lived for Holidays. There was nothing more important to her than to look around the table and see her daughters, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren all present and accounted for. When we arrived, the celebration began. We prayed, laughed, ate, laughed, and ate more. But mom was relatively quiet. It was like she was just soaking it all in. She didn’t eat much (that dang tumor in the way). I asked her later if she was O.K., she just nodded with this contented grin on her face. Surrounded by her family, and so much love, these are the days she lived for.
But all that love didn't save her life. She was gone a little over two months later.
I am 44 years old. I have NEVER had a Thanksgiving without my Mom. This would be the first. I’ve decided not to attend the family celebration today. I just can’t. Not seeing my mom there is just too much for me to handle. I know she wouldn’t want me to do this, but I can only do what I can do. Perhaps next year, but not this year. A dear friend asked me what she could do for me. I told her there was nothing anyone could do. I just want my Mom.
So today, in honor of my Mom, please hold your dear ones close. Laugh often, and hug lots. And treasure every moment. They are so precious.
Happy Thanksgiving one and all...