This was the first Thanksgiving in many years that Val and I spent by ourselves. Formerly, Thanksgiving was the holiday I traditionally hosted for all the family members who live near enough to come.
Preparations would start several days in advance and entailed adding a leaf to our already large dining room table, pressing the banquet-size linen tablecloth and napkins, polishing the silver, creating flower arrangements, preparing the guest room and, of course, cooking the turkey and all the traditional foods that accompany the bird.
Now, the dining room set has been banished to the basement, and in its place is Val’s hospital bed. Meals are in our cheerful, but small kitchen breakfast area. I did make a small turkey and tried not to miss the warm feelings of being surrounded by family and the excitement in the air that the start of the holiday season brings; but, of course, I did even though I know I will see some of the family at Christmas.
I am glad, however, that in the past, I went to the trouble (and it is a lot of work and effort) to create the memorable Thanksgiving holidays the family shared and enjoyed over the years. Looking at the photographs of holidays past and recalling the laughter and affection filling the house is a way I can still savor the moments.
It has also made me keenly aware of the importance of memories and the necessity of trying each day, in the here and now, of creating new ones.
As Val’s frailty has increased, certain memories have become clouded; accentuated no doubt, by the numerous medications he now must take. I never before realized how most couples develop a sort of “joint memory” with each one depending on the other to be responsible for the storing of certain facts.
Val was the keeper of records; from tax forms to insurance costs to what size light bulb was needed inside the refrigerator. Additionally, he usually could come up with the possible places I might have left my keys or glasses. The lessening of this ability to be my memory partner is difficult for me to accept, and I sometimes feel angry and betrayed when I must do the taxes or figure out how to replace the furnace filter — all information that was stored with him.
I was the repository for family birthdays, the children’s likes and dislikes in everything from food to books, who had what illness and when, as well as social and vacation planning. Our oldest son, Mike, is the “go-to” family memory keeper for anything to do with computers or medical research and, of course, our daughter, Marianne, remembers and reminds me of every mistake I ever made as a mother. We even depend on people outside our families to be memory keepers.
My friend, Joan Summa, is my reliable source for who was in what play or movie, while travel companion Barbara Borchardt is often asked to rack her brain for the name of that small cafe in Paris or the hotel where we stayed in Marrakech.
For couples, however, who depend on this joint memory on a daily basis, it is what makes death or divorce especially painful; some bereft partners even suffer from depression or cognitive dysfunction.
Cultivating memories can be a special challenge with families so busy and spread out. It can, however, be as simple as sending a collection of old photographs or writing a loving letter to a family member you haven’t seen or talked to in awhile.
Nowadays, so much changes so fast that it is even more important to create memories so that we have a sense of stability and continuance. May you build many happy memories for the future in the way you plan and celebrate the holiday season.
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