Family Gratitude

What’s Thanksgiving for?

Used to be traditional in relation to a farmer’s field. The celebration of the harvest.

Today it’s turkey. Plates of multi-coloured vegetables. Pumpkin pie.

Tonight my mother did a round table.

“What are you grateful for?” she asked.

One by one we expressed our gratitude. A lot for family. Especially for health. For our food. Where we live. The weather.

She came to my son.

“I’m grateful for my mum being here.”

That made me melt.

I’m three hours away. A hop across the pond so to speak. But no longer in shouting distance.

As the evening culminated I reminisced on what Thanksgiving really means to me.

It’s a reason to be with family. To be together. To share a meal.

To celebrate togetherness.

Earlier in the day my mother and I set the table. We’d already stuffed the turkey and put it in the oven. More then once she said how glad she was that I was there.

But the prayer before dinner wasn’t just for all of us in the circle. It includes those that are no longer with us. That are still part of us.

Even our furry family.

That’s family gratitude.

When Time Stops

Yesterday the vacuum broke. It was old.

No vroooommmmm, merely a rancid smell of burning electrical. It’s time was up.

Later in the day I’m out with the dog and I receive a call from my cousin that my dear Uncle Len had collapsed and was in the hospital. This is the type of call that when you receive it, you drop what you are doing.

I was at the dog park so headed straight for the Emergency ward. He was in good spirits. The doctors were taking good care of him.

Then the most unusual thing happened.

I’d plugged the parking meter for three hours. Thinking I’d dwell there while I could and spend the precious time needed to provide him with all the moral support I could.

The doctor came and went. Throwing a humourous comment to the effect of, “You’re an old man, what do you expect?”
Truly, we all chuckled.

Then I went to glance at my watch for the usual time check. Habit.

The screen was completely blank. Clearly the battery had died.

Or was it the moment I was in.

When really, time stops.

When family calls.

Nothing else matters.

The Family Heart

Years ago at a family function I’d done my best to sneak out of the boredom of the eve. At the time, a teenager – friends were way more fun. Of course.

I remember my mother being irate.

“Remember one thing, Jane. Your family will always be there for you. Your friends may not!”

The guilt got chewed on. I weighed in on the unit. Miserably stayed afoot until it was legally OK to go. The line stayed with me though.

Good thing. Recently I dished it out to my son.

When you’re 18 almost 19 you think you’re in the know.  Fact is, life revolves around you. Like a carriage horse with blinders on. It’s straight ahead. Wherever that my lead.

When dad was alive, Sundays were a traditional road beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner. Around the table. A time to share. To laugh. To commiserate.

Two weeks had gone by and every time I spoke to my son I’d ask him, “So when am I going to see you?”

The reply was always, “I don’t know.”

Happily, I received a call today to meet-up for dinner.

I did a double take. He hadn’t changed much. Still making sense of life and all that he’s got going on in it. The girlfriend, school, a weekend job and friends.

I was delighted to be with him. Delighted to once again feel the family heart.

Lessons in Life

Was contemplating the important things in the day and what I'm grateful for. Pretty much sums up what I've learned in life so far:

Health is wealth.

Family first - no matter what.

Exercise often.

Know when to forgive.

Love – unconditionally.

Smile.

Be patient.

Talk positively.

Give back.

Laugh often.

Be open.

Dream big.

Follow your heart.

Speak your mind.

Know when to be quiet.

Be creative.

Do you have anything to add?

Dad Says

No use being mopey. Doesn’t get you far. I often think what dad went through on a daily basis. Without a complaint.

The stroke struck unexpectedly when he was 44 years-old. It left him paralyzed on his left side. Unable to speak. The speech returned over time but the mobility never did. He carried on.

Friday nights were social. The gents would drop round for a glass or two. Shoot the shit. Filled with jokes. Lots of lively laughter.

When it came to family, Saturday’s were so called the “Saturburger.” It was lunch somewhere with a burger - a round table. Anecdotes of dad pour through my head. Pitty the poor waitresses who had to serve him. 

“Would you like white or whole wheat sir?” The answer a sober, “Yes please.” Just to piss them off. The British sense of humour was seldom understood.

Not sure of the entire origin of the The Cheshire Cat but it seemed it was something he lived by. Mum framed it and gave it to all of us along with a few close friends. Dad was from Cheshire, England.

The Cheshire Cat

When this you see, remember me

And bear me in your mind.

Let all the World, say what they will.

Speak of me as you find.

It’s always in view. Wherever I’ve gone. Today as I grunted bent over backwards varnishing a boat one of his often repeated one-liners popped into my head:

Do what you like, but like what you do.

Okay, dad. Time to switch paths and take maybe a sharp left.

Beyond Family

It bereaves me to understand certain situations in life where an individual can abandon their family members for their own self-indulgence. A shocking display of ego with total ignorance for compassion.
In absolute horror I relived my own disturbance in life. An out-of-balance with the weight heavy in the heart. The burden carried second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour – day by day in the head. No shaking it.
Supposedly time heals everything. Yet in these instances time rattles on like a poisonous snake reaching out for its prey.
Silence may be golden, yet the heart beats hard and the throat catches it while the drums ring on in the ears. Ever cried that hard? It hurts.
My pain and misery spread. Lapping the shores of life. Stealing joy and mitigating sorrow. When will it end?
Acceptance quells the numbness. But will it stitch up the wounds? I know what I can do. It’s all I can do. Be there for my family member. Listen. Talk. Be. Help may come to be beyond family if time doesn’t rekindle this broken heart.

Family Fumblings

What's a family without some sort of drama?
When dad was alive, he used to refer to his better half's parents home as the "Funny Farm." We'd all have to go sooner or later. Have a meal. They'd drink some wine. Then if someone was silly enough to bring up Politics, the **** would hit the fan.
For as long as I can remember we've been "taxed to death." I heard it all the time. Of course, no one disagrees.
However, when a long-standing family dynamic changes; i.e. one person crosses the floor and over the comfort boundaries to bonk another said family member, well I'd have to say that the fire of the dragon has come alive.
You can assume you know your family. For better or for worse. But when the truth comes to light and that certain individual won't communicate honestly, while all around those who watch, hear and feel know reality... a drama unfolds. Which begs the question, if you can't trust your family, then who can you trust?