Thanks Giving

Jeremy (RD's nephew), dpr, RD, RD's sister and Dad

Pictures deceive. My father lives in this photo, but he does not live. This was his last Thanksgiving, in 1991. A few short months after this lovely feast he drew his last breath. In this photo, he had walked the steps from his bed to the dining table. Hard as it was, it was a walk he would have made around the world if he could have, to sit with his family and give thanks for such a gathering.

When I think of Thanksgiving, I always think of my parents. It was at their table that I found the gratitude for being in a family that was built on love. It was not a Hallmark Card of love, not a sappy song, not an insipid rhyme. It was a chaos of cultures, a wild peal of laughter, a raucous conversation of politics. It was not easy, it was not always delightful. It was our Thanksgiving table. A real family.

I miss my father. Still, I give thanks for all that came before.