Wednesday night, Tom’s friend “A” and I donated and delivered Thanksgiving meals to families who needed them. She reminded me of my whole perspective on life at this time last year.
Last year was our first year of gifting meals. We wanted to DO something to honor Tom’s legacy of generosity and giving (she gets credit for the idea). We went into neighborhoods I have never been in before, even though I’ve lived here my whole life. They are neighborhoods you’re supposed to be “careful” in and not to go into “at night”. Turns out, inside the homes of these neighborhoods are families who love each other and want nothing more than to have a hot Thanksgiving meal together. Just like the rest of us.
This year, we ignored the neighborhoods’ reputations. We know better now. We were eager to see the families again. They wanted to show us their kids who have grown since last time. One family already had their Christmas tree up and were excited to show it to us. They thanked us and were very grateful for us remembering them and helping them with another holiday.
Last year I told “A” that I was so happy to help these families because:
“Not everybody can prepare for shit and shit happens to everybody.” (She wrote that down to remind me again this year. Isn’t that funny!?)
These families were definitely going through hard transitions, aka shit.
That was about eight weeks out from my own tragic life event, my own “hard transition”, and I was (am) so grateful that Tom and I prepared in the ways that we did. He was a worst case scenario/best case scenario type of guy. We discussed in great detail what we’d do if an unlikely horrific event happened to either of us or if the best imaginable outcome happened for both of us and prepared for each. Now, I feel like one bad choice, one neglected detail, and I could’ve been one of the Moms who relied on meal donations from friendly strangers.
Anyway, turns out I got the worst case scenario and the best case scenario- the worst part is obvious. The best part is that we had so many really happy years together.
And I loved him.
And he loved me.
And I have two pretty cool kids to hang out with.
And I love them.
And they love me.
And I am able to understand now that there is more for me still to come. I wasn’t prepared for it early on in the cave of my sadness, but growth through grief and the pandemic has made me get prepared and ready for life again. I’ve had a lot of time to think and prepare myself for whatever good transitions might be next.
Also, “A” was Tom’s friend before, and I am so grateful I “inherited” her. She knows Tom almost as well as I do and so we seek each other’s advice when we wish we could talk to Tom.
Anyway, we delivered the meals, reflected on the last year, talked about Tom, laughed so hard that my face and tummy hurt, and she steered me in the right direction on a couple of things I was going off course on. (Or maybe “going off the rails on” is better terminology😂).
So, my perspective from this year is:
“She was scared, only because she’d never done this before, but fearless because she knew she was RIGHT.”
That comes from a great “happy transition” story, but it’s a topic for another day.
A lot of terrible shit has happened in the last 14 months for lots of people. The “hard transitions” have knocked me on my ass, for sure. I feel blessed to know that I am slowly standing up again, a little taller, a little straighter and strong enough to offer help to others. I have hope that someday soon (in the Spring?) I’ll be able to sit at a bar and have a cocktail or two, and people watch, and laugh, and wear pretty shoes and see people’s entire faces (because they won’t be wearing masks?…). Until then, I’m counting all of the small blessings.
May you be blessed enough to intentionally count all the reasons you are grateful in this season of thankfulness. And may you only have “Happy Transitions” in the coming year.
Happy Thanksgiving!
