Thanksgiving

Dear Lloyd,

Thanksgiving is near, my first without you in 35 years.  Despite your physical absence, however, much of what I have to be grateful for is tied to you, is because of you. So I take this time to say thank you for all you were in my life and for all that you gave me that so enriched my life.

Soon, in a few weeks, you will have been gone a year.  It seems forever since I have seen  you, since I have heard your voice, comforting and familiar, smelled that scent that was distinctly you.  Sometimes it seems that we have been apart much longer than we were together, though of course that is not true.  How I ache to see you, love, but as I said earlier, I do have much to be grateful for.

When I first started grief counseling, I thought of us as the loser's group.  So many of the women had long term relationships, many much longer than ours.  It hardly seemed fair that we, the women of this group, were the ones who had a spouse to pass on when so many other people would not be all that saddened by such a loss or seek a severance of the relationships they are in. But eventually I became impatient with myself and with the group members realizing that we were not the loser's group:  we had the chance to experience the type of love that only a long term commitment to someone can yield, a love welded by disagreements, tears, laughter, sex, and uncounted life experiences.  Somehow, rather than wedging us apart, as experience seems to do with so many, it soldered us more firmly together.  I have since left the group, moving forward with my life, but I am thankful that they were there and I wish each of them healing and peace and the courage to move forward. We were in the winner's group all along.

I am thankful for the children we created together, for the honorable adults they have become and for the children that they were.  I think briefly of the one time I was ready to leave you, for no relationship is without its storms, the only time you laid a harsh hand on either child.  Jeff was still quite small and you spanked him for trying to leave the yard.  I loved you, but I loved the children as well.  As you know,  I never could wrap my mind around the idea of hitting people you love and what you were supposedly teaching by it.  Yes, I certainly understand the feeling of wanting to hit someone, just not actually doing it.

We were, I told you, a no-hitting family. I remember that you got angry and told me not to ask for your help when they were out of control teenagers.  I also remember when, years later,  you told me that I was right, the same thing your mother told me when she said she did not realize children could be raised that way. As I told you then, it is difficult to be angry and punish someone who already feels so badly about disappointing you.  But punish them I did, just not with hits and swats.  I am thankful that you listened and were open to another way of thinking.  And I am thankful that we had children that did want to please us.  Few people seem to have such easy teenage years, and you were a part of that.

I am thankful for bicycles and remember that you bought me my first bicycle worried that I was running too much and would suffer in injury.  You told me that when I improved, you would buy me a better bike.  And you did.  Little did you realize that you were giving me freedom and a hobby that I would come to cherish and love.  Perhaps you did realize that you were giving me a hobby that would help me deal with my grief in a more constructive manner, a hobby that would bring me friendships that kept me upright at times when I would have hit my knees.

I am thankful for my mother and that she is still with me despite the fact she can't remember what happened five minutes ago.  Thank you for always encouraging me to see her regularly.  And I am thankful for my friends and siblings.  I am amazed at the kindness in most people.  I am thankful for the cats.  Interestingly, when Kitti died I did not intend to get another cat, to be tied down, but you were so lonely home with  only your pain for company while I worked that I decided to adopt again. They helped you while you were living and now they are company for me to ease my loneliness and a reason to get up in the morning.

I am thankful that I have sufficient, nay an abundance, of food, clothing to warm me and cover my nakedness, and a house to call my own.  I remember when we moved here, leaving the mobile home behind.  I remember the sacrifices we made to get this humble little house that became our home.  No, it is not fancy or a mansion, but it is ours, and our love permeated the very being of this house.

And I could go on and on. Thank you, love.  I know that you did without to try to ensure that I would not go without when you were no longer here to protect me.  And while I am not rich in material goods and probably never will be, I should not go  hungry barring a catastrophe.

Things are not the same without you, but life goes on and my time will come before you know it.  I like to think that you will be there waiting, patiently waiting, as you did at my first 5 K and my first triathlons. I miss you, love.  But I am thankful you were in my life and that I was so loved by you. Happy Thanksgiving.   Melissa