A Season of Thanksgiving
By Smerelda

 

Robert Frost once wrote of  "accepting with grace the
end of love, or the end of a season."  I read it so long
ago, but didn't know what it would come to mean to me.

Thanksgiving ... a time for remembering and appreciating
the special people in our lives. We give thanks for friends,
family, for life's good  things, both large and small.
But my memories of Thanksgiving are not all from years
gone by.  Some are very near and very dear to my heart.
After losing Mother there seemed to be a void in all our
lives which we could not fill.  My older brother,Roy,who
we affectionately called Bubba,was dealing with grief
that seemed to abide with him..
I felt drawn to be with my brothers and sister after losing
Mother. Perhaps it was because I knew they missed her
just as much as I did, but I just didn't know how much I
would miss her...
November, 1995
It was Autumn in Louisiana. The warm weather was waning,
and  I had begun to  notice the smell of burning leaves, with
only a few left clinging tenaciously to the trees, not wanting
to let go, but knowing the inevitable.  A cool clear breeze
greeted each day, with the sun glinting thru the branches
of oak,pine,pecan,and the stoic magnolia trees.
My Grandchildren had  new energy and interest in the season,
waiting for "Turkey Day" which meant Santa would soon
follow. Autumn was here..and so beautiful.Yet the lonely,
melancholy feelings I always experience this time of year
were ever present. And the distant sound of a drum from
a school band practicing for a football game, echoed the
feelings that surrounded me. I could smell The aroma of
woodburning fireplaces, always a signal that winter is on
it's way. A time for harvesting. I knew my aunt Jewel would
be busy preserving and getting stocked for winter, hoping
she had remembered to "put up" a few extra quarts of fig
and pear preserves for me!

I called my brother Roy, who lived with his family in Tennessee
and asked what his plans were for the  Thanksgiving Holidays.
He told me that since all his children had married and now had
to "divide up" the holiday visits, that he and his wife, Delores,
had decided to make this decision easier for them They were
going to have Thanksgiving dinner together, just the two of
them, in a local restaurant. But after talking for awhile, those
plans changed. It was all set. We were going to Tennessee for
Thanksgiving.

The day we were to leave he must have called me ten times.
"Are y'all coming or what?" he would ask.  He was so
excited. We got a late start and arrived  in Nashville in the
wee hours of the morning, which just added to the excitement
of the moment. My sister, Deborah, had driven up from Alabama,
and her family came the next day.   My younger brother Payton
his wife, Rose, and daughter Brandi and fiancee had driven from
Dallas. My brother, Roy, has 3 children, each married with a
family of their own, and they were all waiting up for us to arrive
that cold blustery Tennessee night on the eve of Thanksgiving.
It was enough just for us to be together, but  The warmth and
the smell of food cooking filled the house and the night air adding
to the magic.The carpet of leaves, crisp and golden, that lay on
the ground created A perfect late Autumn night.There was
something warming, and somehow appropriate that the day we set
aside to be together and count our blessings had truly been lined
with gold. I never wanted it to end. Oh it was good to be here!
But  nothing lasts forever, except loving memories.

All my family was there, with the exception of my son, Mark,
who was in Korea, so we made a video with Thanksgiving greetings
from each one and sent to him.  Some stayed at the homes of Roy's
children but we made"Baptist Pallets" on the floor just so we
could all be together. And we were so together!  We made a pact
that we would make this a tradition and would all return every
Thanksgiving. I wished that everything could remain the same.
That this season would not lead to the bleakness of winter,
and that none of us would even have to grow older. Roy's son David,
would later tell my daughter, "this is the first time I have seen
daddy smiling since Big Mama, died." Roy asked me, "Dongail, do
you think if we had a house big enough, we could all live together?
Wouldn't that be great..everybody together again?" Of course we
both knew it was just a wonderful dream..brought on by the feeling
of being, once again, together with brothers and sisters.
 

"Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh but we're grateful an' glad to be there.
Home from the east an' home from the west
Home with the folks that are dearest an' best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We've come for a time to be just who we are."

..excerpt from a poem by Edgr Guest


 
The next year my daughter, her children, and I made the trip
to Tennessee and all the familiar warmth, love, and feelings were
there but there was a difference.  I noticed a difference in my
brother Roy, but couldn't put my finger on it. He seemed to nap
a lot, and some of the excitement seemed  to have gone from his
face.  But I didn't know why. Nor did I know this would be the last  Thanksgiving we would spend together.

My brother's passing from this life in August 1997 has made
the Thanksgiving season seem bittersweet.
Perhaps it is this time of year, in autumn, when sighing leaves
die, animals gather a winter's stock of food, and the earth's
harvest is collected and stored, that the cycle of life and the
inevitability of  death stares us down.
How do  I ever accept losing my childhood playmate, my friend,
my brother? Just as tho closing a book after the story is finished?
The sun setting on all the "yesterdays" ..never to come again.
Childhood may not be important or even necessary to some people,
and I don't think it was really necessary for me either.  But it's
nice to have, lingering in a place, where you can bring it back with
just a "twinge" of memory, or the tug of a heartstring.  My child-
hood with my brother was and is important to me.

Amid all the pain of losing my brother I sometimes  have forgotten
all the many things for which I could and should  be grateful.
Realizing that on some days the tiniest thing that  eases my
heart's burden is  indeed a blessing in itself.
And I wonder if where he is, is he aware of the changing seasons?
Perhaps the brother I loved so much is where the seasons go when
they are once more through with this earth.
And does he remember the "earthly" traditions and the plans
 we made to be together on Thanksgiving?

So with all due respects to Mr Frost, in my family at least,
we know about accepting with grace the end of a season.
But never the end of love.
I choose to remember my brother,  captured in time,
as he was that Tennessee Thanksgiving in 1995.
Smiling, happy, ...and living  for that moment in time when
we all were together.  A time that meant so much to us all.

We have learned to cherish each and every day and holiday now.
Though miles may seperate us, we are bound by our love,
our friends and family, the loving memories of  those who will
always live in our hearts,  and a merciful and healing God.