My grandfather died on this date and on the evening of Thanksgiving in 1980. I was twenty years old and I remember that night so clearly. Grandpop had spent the 30 days prior to his death on life support at Nazareth Hospital after an illness that lasted two years. He was a strong vibrant man passed six foot tall with a smile that lit up his entire face and a heart made of pure gold. I adored my grandfather as I adored my grandmother so his memory after all these years still shines bright within my mind.
I spent Thanksgiving Day with my two youngest sons.
I envision clearly what the years of my life over a holiday will be.
As happy as I am to see my son, the sorrow overwhelms me afterwards. Today, I kept that sorrow in check until I dropped off my son Joshua to his home. Now that I am home it engulfs me. I held it in for four hours. Fake it until you make it or in my case fake it until it overtakes you.
I hide my feelings when I am around my children/grandchildren because they rely on my strength to get through each day. I can write freely about all this because I know they never read this site.
Sometimes this site feels like my only outlet.
Once upon a time, I loved the Christmas Season. I dread it now. I feel broken. My family is broken. My heart is heavy and so very sad.
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