When my mother was a child, she lived life around the dying of her mother. Something about this reminds me of my mother’s writing. Nice and real job.
while wrestling with recall, it turns out what should have been the worst day turned out not so bad–a terrible time, a moment of grace
Cathartic Thanksgiving Day
My worst Thanksgiving ever. Hmm, I can’t recall. Not that Thanksgivings were always grand. But they tended to be good. The years my mom was dying from cancer. I can’t imagine those Thanksgivings were good. I was trying to visit her in the hospital each day or taking care of her when home, trying to take care of the house, trying to work a job across the city.
But I think for the holidays my siblings came to town, and I had a holiday of sorts unto myself. I didn’t cook or do much of anything except sit still. And Thanksgiving Day was peaceful. Same thing at Christmas.
I probably felt tired and numb at heart. The constant pace of covering everything…
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