I had the exact same Thanksgiving for 42 years straight until year before last. My grandmother died at 102 around Thanksgiving 2005. She lived alone on the 100 acre farm in Carrollton for 25 years after my grandfather died, drove her friends to church after they were too old, taught her Sunday school class, us kids stayed with her all summer growing up, I took her to renew her drivers license on her 97th birthday, so every year is different because Mom is gone. She showed me a close representation of the love of God. When I was a teenager and behaving badly, I would always think of Mom. I would think about how I would feel if she could see me. But, it’s like she wouldn’t even believe you if you told her something bad about me or my brothers, like she never built a file in her brain to store anything unlovely regarding us. I went to visit her on Wednesdays for about 15 years. We would go shopping and goof off, go to lunch, go to Target, we made quilts for all the daughters-in-law, we canned pickles and pear preserves, she showed me how to cut corn off the cob and cook it in the frying pan, I got my first Tahoe 10 years ago with 4 wheel drive so we could drive all over the farm and look at her cows. We filled the bird feeders and visited her friends in the nursing homes. She loved to eat at Long John Silvers, she said you couldn’t fry fish that good at home, plus it makes a big mess. Mostly we sat on the porch and looked across the land and talked about God and everybody we loved. Those Wednesdays defined me for so long, I had a weekly reminder of who I am. A center.
Now I have a blog. Somehow, it just isn't the same. Y'all are great and all, but I'm just saying. I miss Mom.