Eight Years Ago

Thanksgiving is my favorite day of the year. Those of you who know me know how much I look forward to Thanksgiving every year. It's pretty simple for me to know why I love this day so much. It's the fall colors, the chill in the weather, the food, family, the parade, the beginning of the Holidays.....It's the perfect day.

I mean what's not to love about Thanksgiving? I remember EVERY year as a child waking up to that familiar smell of celery and onions simmering; my mom prepping the stuffing. Waking up to that smell is one of my favorite memories of my childhood. Every year, I'd wake up early, go into the kitchen where my mom would have that first cup of egg nog of the season ready for me. I'd go in and watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and start putting together the same jigsaw puzzle every year. Lunch and football would follow. Other traditions would follow. In Dodge City, KS we'd go downtown to watch them light the Christmas lights. In Greenwood, IN we'd play the annual Heaston/Cohee Trivial Pursuit Championship with my mom's sister's family. Oh, how I love that day. Even when my mom and dad lived in IN and I in GA, I'd still fly up and spend Thanksgiving with my parents and stay at home for Christmas. It was the day I wanted to be with them more than any other.

The weekend following Thanksgiving is just as wonderful. We sleep in and skip the "Black Friday" nightmare. We will venture out at some point during the day ending up at Monument Circle in downtown Indy to experience the "Circle of Lights". Saturday we'll take the boys to a movie (last year, The Polar Express", this year, "A Christmas Carol") in the morning and get our Christmas tree in the afternoon. Sunday evening, we decorate the tree. It is the day (weekend) I look forward to more than any other every year.

But there's another reason I love this time so much. It was my mom's favorite time of the year. It was her favorite day. She would light up every Thanksgiving. It was "her day". My mom had it down to perfection. She made it a point to create memories. To instill tradition. She was intent on making every Thanksgiving a perfect day. She was even perfect in the kitchen. Like clockwork, at 1:00, lunch was on the table. Everything was hot, everything was perfect. The most delicious meal of all time. I don't know how she did it. All I can conclude is that she was made for this day.

Thanksgiving 2001 was an awful day. On November 14th of that year at around 6:30 p.m, an anuerysm ruptured in my mom's brain. She never woke up. On the 15th, we made the decision to let her go. It was the worst day of my life. There was so much left unsaid, undone. It was too soon.

Seven days later was supposed to be my favorite day of the year. We had all kinds of family in town. Nothing was right. The stuffing was all wrong. The broccoli casserole (her specialty) was a disaster. Even the turkey tasted bad. I couldn't eat. I didn't watch the parade. I wanted to skip the entire day.

Those of you who knew my mom, know what kind of woman she was. Granted, I am biased, but I have never known a better woman. (THIS IS NO DISRESPECT TO MY WIFE - SHE'S THE BEST WOMAN I KNOW, BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT) Everybody who knew her will agree with me. I am so thankful that she was MY mom. There was nothing she wouldn't do for anybody. My mom never spent a dime on herself. She gave and gave. My mom never thought of herself first. Never. Karen Ruth Eastwood Heaston was special. She was unique. She was simply, my mom.

My wife barely go to know my mom. We started dating only three months earlier. (Though through the events of that week she never left my side and I knew then that she was the one.) My children never got to be held by or kissed by my mom. Oh, how that breaks my heart. They know who their Nana is, but don't really KNOW her. There are so many regrets that I have.

It's now been eight years since that day. I still think of her A LOT during this time of year. I think of her and hope that she would be proud of who I have become. I think of her and wonder how our lives would be different had God not chosen to take her at fifty years old--way too early in my mind. But I also think of her and thank God extensively that she was my mom. I thank Him that I was able to spend 27 Thanksgivings with my mom. I am thankful that she instilled in me a love for this time, this day and family traditions.

There is so much I could say about my mom, but if you were to ask me the one thing that made her who she was, I'd say Thanksgiving. I think of her most in November. I don't know if it is cruel or fitting that she died during that time of year. My heart says it is fitting.