Thanksgiving

It is the morning after Thanksgiving and I am sitting in an unfamiliar home, in a different state, but with wonderful friends. David and I were adamant that we did not wish to have a Thanksgiving that remotely resembled previous Thanksgivings, where Ariella’s absence would be glaring. Her absence is always felt, yes, but she is not obviously missing from this tableau since she has never been in this setting, or even with these friends. She would not be expected to be here. And this Thanksgiving was quite different from those in the past and until dinner, it didn’t even feel like a holiday. Had we been at home I would have been cooking all day with the parade and then the dog show on in the background, and Ariella would have taken care to nicely set the table and write the menu on her dry erase board. Yesterday was nothing like that. We traveled and spent time with good friends, eating, drinking and just being together. And it was a relief. But the traveling. There is not much else to do during a more than five hour drive than to think. And imagine all the games we played on road trips with Ariella (the alphabet game, I Spy, License plates). And reminisce. And contemplate “what if?”. And consider what we should be or would be doing rather than what we are doing.

David’s college friends, now a married couple, graciously invited us to spend Thanksgiving with them in Cleveland. And we jumped at the chance to get out of town. They don’t have children and it is almost freeing to be away, with no obligations, doing something completely different. Up until we sat down for dinner, the day felt just like any other day, visiting with good friends. But dinner still just didn’t feel right. The place was different, the people were different, but it was still a Thanksgiving meal. Which should be shared with our daughter. It’s hard to feel thankful when your family has been shattered. But there are some things I am grateful for. I am grateful for good friends like the ones we are currently with. I am grateful for the friends and family that continue to check on us. Especially those that weren’t close friends prior to the tragedy. It’s those that reach out after something horrible happens, even if they are mere acquaintances, that truly care, that truly mean it. Because they don’t have to. They do not feel obligated to. But they choose to. Which is extra special because interacting with a grieving parent is not always easy. It can be awkward and uncomfortable and yet people choose to be there. And there have been quite a few that continue to check in, and just want us to know they are thinking about us. Thank you to everyone who sent messages yesterday. It means a lot.

We are now back in the car for a four hour drive to Michigan where we will meet up with more of David’s college friends and go to the Maryland v. Michigan State football game (I went to Maryland, the others went to Michigan State). It’s going to be cold and rainy, but once again with good friends. I sometimes wish I could just stay in a place where Ariella never was because I could almost pretend that we are just away for a little while, to one day return to normal life. I am not reminded of her with every walk down the hallway, every route we take driving, every store we see. But then again, I take comfort in being around Ariella’s things, being able to go into her room, cuddle with stuffed animals she once cuddled with, touch things she once touched.

I feel like I am not fully participating. I’m watching myself interact, make conversation but I’m actually not really doing too much of that. I’ve been pretty quiet. Silently observing. Not fully taking part. I’m physically here but my mind and my heart are elsewhere. I’ve had moments of laughter, though they are rare. I’m glad I’m here, with David and good friends but I’m also not really here. The change of scenery and company is good. But I also long for the peace of my own home. But what I really want I can’t have and there is not anything that can make that okay. The change in routine, change in location somewhat distracts, but also makes me long for the familiar.