We all have our seasons of grief, for each of us that is a different time of year. I’m not sure which part of the year will be the most difficult for me yet – the bitter winter when Chris was diagnosed, the summer when he died or sometime in between when we are missing him from our lives a little extra.

Chris and I lived in the states for several years, and over this time we developed a love for the American Thanksgiving holiday.

We still celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving, but the November date stole our hearts.

There is a lot of hype and excitement surrounding the 4-day long weekend that symbolizes the kick-off to a month of Christmas celebrations.

I fondly remember watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on television from the drilling rig I worked on in Pennsylvania. The holidays that I spent on the rig were special. Naturally, these dates are about being together and when you are surrounded by people missing home, it draws everyone closer and into a make-shift family. It was the first snowstorm of the year and the air was full of holiday cheer as we gathered ‘round the extravagant deliveries of food plates. Vendors, either thankful for business, or ones trying to gain it, would bring gifts and the holidays were no exception.

I don’t think that it would be wrong to say that December brings feelings of sadness for everyone missing a loved one from their lives.

It is difficult to be surrounded by the festivities if you feel that there is nothing in life worth celebrating.

The decorations and happy people are intimate reminders of loved ones that are no longer with us. My feelings are swelling as I anticipate surviving now and until New Year’s. It would be a pleasant escape from my world to be present on the drilling rig again this year, with others missing their loved ones.

Our Thanksgiving traditions evolved over the years and Canadian Thanksgiving became more about BBQ and learning to cook the perfect smoked brisket, while the turkey was set aside for the November date. Pecan pie, cornbread, and green bean casserole mingled their way into our index of recipes.

The last year Chris and I spent Thanksgiving in the U.S. we had purchased a pre-cooked turkey from the Whole Foods grocery store because we were packing a twenty-seven-foot moving truck. We were going to make the drive North from Texas to Nova Scotia on Monday.

That was a memorable day, it was not filled with friends or family, but highlights the solidarity of our relationship and the team that we were together. When we finally finished packing that truck, we needed a poking stick to hold everything back so that we could get the door closed. That wasn’t the end of it though when we went to leave, the battery was dead in my vehicle. It was exhaustion and defeat that brought us both to tears.

The memory I hold now is not of the agony, but of the strength and support that we had in our togetherness.

We shared a 24Hr convenience store snack beside the pool as Emma, our dog, had her last swim, we re-grouped and said our good-byes. We had a hotel room booked up the street and by the time we were pulling into that parking lot, sunlight was glowing on the horizon.

Once we were back in Canada, we carried on our American celebrations by cooking a turkey on the November date, but as the years passed our participation waned. Our lives got busier and our acknowledgment for the day came in the form of yearning for the past and the years of full-blown celebration.

Chris won’t be with me this year; we were hanging onto our American Thanksgiving traditions by a thread as it was, but without him to share the memories, I feel like it is a practice that has left this home for good. American Thanksgiving was a tradition steeped in the past that I shared with someone else, and that is nothing more than a memory now.

This coming Thursday will be celebrated by many of our American friends with food, friends, and family. As the Christmas season gets into full swing, it will also be the start of many grieving through the holiday period when someone that is missing from the table is remembered.