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.