Ah, the holidays. Sometimes deliriously happy. Sometimes so lonely as to wrench your heart from your chest. Looks like this year, mine will be a wee bit of both.
My two children will be with me on Thanksgiving Day,
but they will be with their dad and his family the Saturday following
for the big celebration. I've been sharing Thanksgiving with his family
since I was nineteen years old. I'm forty now. Twenty-one years of Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas dinners. I wish I'd relished them more when I had the chance.
So, why don't I just hang out with my own biological family? My childhood was rife with abuse, and I stopped playing pretend we're a happy family a long time ago. I don't have a relationship with
my dad. My mom and I speak occasionally but never with any depth. My
brother has his own family. My sister, who still plays pretend, will spend the day with our
parents. They all live a few states away from me.
Bottom line. Extended
family holiday celebrations are now a thing of the past for me.
miss the boisterous dinners, the rousing games of Bingo, the walks out
in the cold, and the marathon of weepy Hallmark movies on the TV.
miss my family.
I know. Technically, they belong to him, but they've
been mine for so long...Mom, Dad, two sisters plus their husbands, and a
gorgeous furry niece/King Charles Cavalier Spaniel.
Someone else (his
girlfriend) will sit in my place at the table. Two extra chairs will be
added for her kids.
And me? I'll be on my own. Maybe I should make a list of fun things to do to pass the time. So long as eating too much Rocky Road is on the list, I should survive.