My father-in-law passed away in March and this is our first Thanksgiving without him.
Thanksgiving was “his” holiday. He loved it above any other (although 4th of July was a close second). When J and I became “serious” about each other and started spending holidays together, Thanksgiving went to his family and we spent Christmas with mine. Every year for the past 17 years, we’ve trekked up to New Hampshire on the Wednesday before Turkey Day, sometimes spending four or five hours in traffic just to get there – but it was worth it. My mother-in-law would have a steaming pasta dinner ready for us when we arrived and the Thanksgiving pies would be cooling in the pantry. Thanksgiving day would be filled with family – J’s brother, wife and two daughters and his sister, brother-in-law and their two little ones would arrive around noon and the festivities would begin – lots of cooking, kids getting wild, adults uncorking wine, and talking…lots and lots of talking. As we sat down to eat, we would toast to Thanksgiving – to our bounty and the beautiful meal that my mother-in-law prepared and our good fortune to be together. This year it’s different.