This is the second year that there has been an empty chair at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. After two years, I thought the pain of the empty chair would go away. It's never easy losing a family member, let alone a grandmother. This Thanksgiving, seeing my grandfather look into the corner where my grandmother sat was unbearable at times. He didn't want it to be noticeable; he didn't want anyone to begin thinking about the thought of not having her with us, but I was thinking about it as well.
Every Thanksgiving since my mother was asked to host dinner, my grandmother would still arrive at our house earlier than the rest of my family to aid her in cooking. I can picture her now, testing the gravy with her finger and adding whatever seasoning she felt was necessary. I remember the smell of her stuffing as she brought a giant aluminum pan filled to the brim in our house. The sight of my mother listening to everything she was saying about the turkey and its cooking time will forever stand out in my mind. No matter how old I was, my grandmother would always allow me to have a piece of the hot turkey before anyone else. This year, as I was in the kitchen tasting the turkey, a pang of remembrance came over me. Tasting the turkey wasn't the same.
At some point in the dinner, my grandmother and father would usually end up nagging each other about past events to the point where it seemed as though they were mother and son. Thanksgiving conversations have not been the same. There's an element missing. Prayer before dinner has had its tradition kept, but there is a voice missing. Conversations are missing an element of sass and excitement. For dessert, there is an empty tea cup sitting on the counter. The atmosphere itself just isn't the same.
Two years after losing my grandmother, Thanksgiving still isn't the same. Memories that have been engraved in my mind for the last 20 years are the only way I can have her at every Thanksgiving. Seeing the empty chair every year will never become easier, but creating new memories will never end. This year, and every year, I am thankful for having the memories of my grandmother.
