Thankful

I woke up this Thanksgiving morning and she laid her head on my chest. Her hair, formed and shaped overnight by a seemingly sassy pillow, tickled my nose, but I did not move. I wanted to take the entire experience in and simply hold her. Our touch is familiar, almost forty years of practice with one another. Our once teenage bodies have moved beyond middle age, but truthfully, nothing feels much different, except for the gratitude that only time can bring. Within a few moments, our dog Birdie inches her way up the bed, wedging her body between us, separating us but it is okay. We giggle and stroke Birdie’s ears, and somehow she is snoring within moments. How does she fall asleep so fast? Is it comfort? Safety? Nevertheless, she too has become familiar to hold, a part of our family, and over the past couple of years that she’s been with us, she has witnessed many tears and a lot of laughter. She has comforted our souls. We are thankful for her. 

My phone rings. It is my sister, Terri. I smile immediately because I know what is about to happen when I pick up. I say, “Hello,” and then I hear from the other end, “Gobble, gobble, gobble…” several times. It’s a high pitch, turkey like rambling, and if one did not know better they would actually think a turkey had dialed them. She has done this for decades on Thanksgiving and I wish I had the good sense to record each one of them. We talked about life and politics for a moment, but I think the main message was that no matter what happens, we have family. I am thankful for her. 

I received a text from my niece to wish us a Happy Thanksgiving! Her heart has been hurt these past few weeks, but her heart is good and strong, and full of passion. I wish I could tell her so many things that I have learned over the years about letting go. However, we all have to figure out how to navigate this journey for ourselves. Still, if I could give her advice it would be to understand what is within your control, what is not, and do not allow others to create so much emotional turmoil inside of you, especially people that do not matter. I am thankful for her spirit. 

The messages have trickled in throughout the morning from friends, colleagues, and former students. I am thankful for them all. For all of them have been a part of my journey and I am grateful they allowed me to be a part of theirs. We can often take for granted the people in our life that currently do, or have, brought us joy. I am thankful for them and recognize their importance in my life. 

Yesterday, I walked the trails with a dear friend, Rich. We hugged and told one another we loved each other. It is true, and when men do this, it is not just something we say. There is meaning behind it. There is a bond, a confession of the soul, where we are telling each other that we will walk through hell and back for them. Within the rolling hills, we share our hell with one another. The hell that is deep within the mind, and then we laugh at it because we realize once again that we are not alone. We have a lifeline to call if it gets too bad. I am thankful for my friend. 

Soon, my eighty seven year old mother-in-law will walk through the door to our house. She has been a part of my life for the forty years that I mentioned earlier, even longer. To see her walk through the door gives me joy. I do not take for granted how special it is to watch her journey into old age. We will sit and talk at our kitchen table and then meander to the den where we will all doze on and off to a movie. There is comfort in the simple things in life. Often, they become the most memorable and special. I am thankful for her and Dave for having a daughter that I love dearly, and I am thankful for Ruth for being like a mother to me as well. 

Tomorrow morning, I will see two men who I love, my brother and his son. We will meet and shoot our guns at the range. Shooting is something I onced loved to do, and once upon a time when I was in the military, I was quite good at it. My nephew, Camron, became interested in shooting the past couple of years, and he inspired me to start it up again. Many will look at this and not understand the bond that such an act can bring, and that is okay. Our positive masculinity is in check. These are two men I hope to grow old with. When my nephew reaches the age I am now, I will be eighty five years old and his father will be eighty seven. It would be a blessing to be alive and see him gray as my brother and I have. I hope that over the years I have modeled for him how to live a good life, one that is healthy, active, adventurous, and most importantly, loving. My wish for him is to be a reflective man and know that life is a wonderful gift not to be wasted. I am thankful for them both.

This is the second Thanksgiving without my mother. I think last year I was mostly numb, still in disbelief. I still sit in that place, not believing she is gone. It’s usually when I dream about her the night before or smell the scent of her apartment each time I walk into a room where many of her things are now placed. They are little treasures that are only meaningful to me and a handful of people. Her death has been devastating to me. I find myself in tears within a moment of thinking about her or seeing a painting that she did while sick with cancer, and the brush strokes are shaky and uneven from tired, painful hands that struggled to create smoothly. Certainly, I have accepted her death and I will live my life to the best of my ability, mindful of the moments, forgiving the past, and not worrying about the future. Worry has never solved or helped anything, so why contemplate about something that is not within my control. My mother’s death taught me that lesson once again. All I can control is the here and now. I am grateful for the fifty-three years I had with my mom. I am thankful for her love. It saved me when I was little and she helped mold me into the man that I am today. I try to be a good one. 

As I lay next to Karen this morning, holding her in my arms, I once again realized how fortunate I truly am. The chaos of the world, the trivial demands, the negativity that often surrounds us and tries to enter our space, does not matter. What matters is living a life true to yourself, and true to the person who you hold dearest to your heart. We were watching a movie last night, and after it was over, the credits running, I looked at Karen and said, “Do you ever wonder what will happen to us when we get old? Which one of us will die first? Will we ever become sick one day?” These questions went against my practice of mindfulness and being in the moment, but they are also reflective questions that I think brings me back to what is truly important in life. They are questions that Karen is used to because she married a reflective man. “It is sad to think about,” we both agreed. I am grateful for Karen. She came to me when I needed her most, as a young man of fifteen, drifting away from himself. I owe Karen everything, my life and the world. Mostly, I owe her my love because she keeps a broken man mended together. She understands me and I don’t take that for granted. In return, I vowed years ago to give her the best life that I knew how. Not a life of material possessions, but one where she knows she has been loved fully. Love through actions, love through words and letters, and love through confession. Confessions that come directly from my heart and I hope seep deeply into her soul, making her feel like she is the most special person in the world. I am not sure I always accomplish that, but at least I try. I am thankful for her.