Thanks to those who were so helpful when I was melting down. Your comments and suggestions were very appreciated, although in the end, moot. No grace was said. There was enough chaos where it was never really missed, and although I had my typed out plan in my bra (pocket of choice), I didn't use it. After dinner, I did go over to my dad and brother and told them of what had been transpiring in my head all week and shared with them what I had written. My dad said he had contemplated asking me to speak, but decided that maybe it would be too hard. It was a nice holiday and my grandma was a trooper. We had so many extra folks, they served as a good distraction. For the record, here is what I planned on saying:

Firstly, thanks to everyone who has come to join our family on this holiday of thanksgiving. We all have so many things to be thankful for, but I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge what we lost this year. An artist, a life force, a family member, a friend is gone, and she left us with a lesson to be thankful. To be thankful for every single moment we have together, not just on each holiday, but on every single day. So in addition to being thankful to have every thing we have, let’s all be thankful that we have each other too.

Crap.

I am so worried about Thanksgiving. How are we all going to do what we normally do? Just pretend like Mimma is away? We never talk about it. My grandma is always in tears, but scolds any one of us if we look as though we've been crying. My mom likes to pretend Mimma is on vacation, and went so far as to think she was bringing the potatoes. Death is so weird. The way that someone can be gone, but you just forget. I did it in Target a few days ago, when confronted with the foot spa stuff I undoubtedly would have bought her as a gift for xmas...and when I realized that she was gone, and there was one less person to buy for, I burst out into tears.

My dad always asks me to say grace/thanks at these sorts of things. He says it is because I am a good speaker. This has always been the case, he even let me speak the year AFTER I had been well immersed into my liberal arts education, and declared that what we were doing was a giant lie- and it was just celebrating a victory of genocide over the Pequot Indians. Oh yes, even then, I was in charge of saying something the next holiday that rolled around. But what do I say tomorrow? The task is even more monumental because there will be non family guests, poor things. They all know, and I think they all knew her, so it isn't some big secret. I am not known for my subtlety, and really, I will not pretend like she isn't missing. But what do I say that honors her without turning me into a blubbering mess?

These are my ideas:

Hey, yeah, so we should be thankful that at least we're all alive. (um, no)
Wow, 2008 really sucked...but at least it is almost over! (?)
Let's all give thanks to Jesus....um, nvm.

How about:
I want to thank you all for coming to join our family on this day, our first holiday since we lost our beautiful, vibrant, talented Mimma. We all miss her and don't understand why she was taken from us. They say time heals everything, and we can all be hopeful that this is the case...and while there are plenty of things we can all be thankful for, it is worthwhile to note that we are not grateful for what has been taken. Let's take a moment to take joy in the memories she left for us, and raise our glasses in love and appreciation of what we do have.
Blah blah blah.

If I thought I could get even the first 5 words out of that without turning into a mess, I would. But even as I sit here writing, waiting for the dough for the sticky buns that I make for the Thanksgiving Breakfast at my mother in laws to rise, I am crying.

It's funny, I don't want to idealize anything. The fights my aunt and I had, most especially on holidays, were somewhat legendary. She and I could push each other's buttons like no one's business. Fiery, Latina women who loved each other unconditionally and had very very very different opinions about things can do that. We can scream and yell and fight (and oh, we did) and then pose for a picture with our noses red and eyes swollen as soon as it is over (which she had framed so that we'd "always remember"). And now, there will be no fights. But it won't be better. It won't ever be better.

I am thankful for a lot. I am.

Popular

I was not a popular kid in elementary school. I was pseudo friends with one of the popular kids for a few years, but it turned out she was using me to do her bidding, and things ended badly. I started the elite, rich, white Catholic school in 3rd grade, when my mom went in and begged the principal to not make me be subjected to the dreaded busing happening in the public school system...and there I was. #61 in the 3rd grade, where the classrooms were only set up for 30 per. I was extra. And my first day of school was maybe their 3rd day, they had all been together since kindergarten, and I had no uniform, no religious training, and I was half jewish, and I was poor, chubby, melodramatic, hispanic, and the child of parents who were divorcing. Needless to say, I didn't really start off on the right foot.

There are horrific stories I could tell, but I can save that for another day. Suffice to say that I was physically and emotionally abused by everyone from the children right up to the principal for the entire time I was there, and it was awful. Six years of awful.

Cut to 6 years later, and I was graduating 8th grade with a bright future...my parents had promised public school. We had moved to a better neighborhood, and I was going to be allowed to attend the local school. I did well there, making friends I still have to this day, and I am not just talking about on facebook. I had the lead in the school play (despite being physically wrong for the part. Even after a summer at weight watcher's camp, I was unconvincing as a young girl being hidden away in an attic during WW2...but I was the better actor, so I got it), and was even voted "most loveable" in a non-sham "most polls" contest for the 9th graders at the end of the school year. High school was great too...lots of fun, lots of friends, and I enjoyed my Drama geek status which had me not in the "cool kids" group, but with plenty of friends (and, technically, my own kingdom) regardless. Being involved in the Y and Rocky Horror kept me social and busy and I didn't look back to the days of being the kid who would sit down at a table at lunch and have the whole table get up and move.

But that doesn't mean that the scars of that time aren't there...they manifest themselves in different ways. I am a people pleaser. I like people to like me. I don't like it when people are displeased with me. I have never had the "fuck it, who cares what people think" mentality, which I totally blame on the years I spent surviving at St. Pauls. I have gotten a little better over the years, but not by much.

So I have come across a situation where someone is displeased with me. And it is for something I did, kind of. And I suppose I could say fuck it, cause honestly the outcome would have not one bit of effect on my life, but I just suck at that, plus it is something I don't want to do. So I am feeling blue and annoyed and just totally unsure as to how to proceed. And this is the first time I have blogged about something like this in a public blog, so I feel very vulnerable...but I felt the need to write it down.