Thanksgiving morning I woke early so that I could get food prepared and cooking started. For years, my dad cooked the majority of the traditional meal. This year, he is recovering from major back surgery he underwent about eight weeks ago. If we were going to celebrate Thanksgiving the way we always have, then it was time for my brother and I to take over the apron strings in the kitchen.

On Wednesday night, shortly after we arrived in Virginia, Sean had to make a last minute dash to Florida, as his dad’s health was failing rapidly, he had just been moved from ICU into a Hospice care facility.

Every morning as I wake, my first involuntary movement is to reach for my phone to see what time it is. I didn’t want to even pick it up this morning, as I feared the inevitable would be waiting for me. And there it was, black words in a yellow text bubble. The text had arrived with the fateful news, I didn’t want to see. Jim had passed just after 1 am.

I had a quiet moment as tears fell and soaked into my pillow. Visions of happy times appear on the screen of my mind. I thought of the laughter we shared and the years we walked through together touching people’s lives. I flashed back to when we started a church from our tiny living room twenty three years ago.  Through much sadness and emotion, I decided to dwell on the purpose of his life and how rich and full it was, knowing the thousands of people whose lives were enriched and made better having known this man of God. Taking a deep breath and wiping my tears I went to the kitchen and began preparing the annual meal that brings our family together every year.

My ninety-year-young grandmother was the first family member I saw. We poured our first cup of coffee together and I told her the news. She hugged me and shared tears and words of condolences as the sun began to cast golden beams across the polished tile floors.

Within an hour I was seasoning two turkeys, prepping potatoes, glazing ham, and chopping vegetables. I tried my best to organize the kitchen and dining room for the few dozen family and friends that would be arriving by noon. Soon my brother, Trip and sister in-law Michelle were with me, side by side we laughed as we prepared each dish for the feast. Trying hard to follow recipes and honor tradition.

Thanksgiving has always been a day that I dreaded as much as I have looked forward to and loved. A few weeks before anxiety would grow as I have always stressed over the clash of personalities that converge under one roof in twenty four short hours. Eruptions and explosions that occur when you mix certain chemicals and the climate reaches a particular temperature is not much different than family gatherings. Sometimes it is too much for this introvert too handle. Ironically, at the same time, my eyes scan the room at every gathering and I pause at each member of this crazy dysfunctional family that continues to love each other unconditionally through it all and ask myself; would we ever have it any other way?

By noon, the house was filled with chatter, laughter and warm greetings. The younger kids were running around and the appetizer grazing had begun.

A highlight for me was watching the joy on my grandmother’s face as Bryce spun her around the room as my mom played familiar tunes on the chocolate brown baby grand piano.

I kept busy throughout the day between cooking, cleaning, hugging, crying and taking pictures.

Part of the group went to the back of the property to the shooting range as they do every year. Echoes of gunshots were muffled through the walls of the house for a couple hours as savory and sweet smells permeated the kitchen and living room.

At four o’clock, the buffet was ready and we gathered around the table. My brother said the blessing, something that Jim usually did all those years before. We had a moment to all reflect and give thanks together for our many blessings. The most important in each other’s hands at this very moment. Then the feast commenced.

Every year we take group photos by the stone fireplace that my father built a couple decades ago. It was a difficult task to do this year as not everyone was there. Missing Sean, Baylie, Kathy and Jim. But knowing it’s full and significant importance, I pushed through and still took several pictures and handed the camera to a friend to take one of all the family members that were here. This was also a year to celebrate and cherish as my oldest son Carder had his fiancé Chelsea by his side for the first time for our Thanksgiving ritual.

Teens gathered around the wooden table stretched a long as it would go, playing board games and joking with each other with love disguised under layers of sarcasm.

By the end of the night, turkey pieces, ham slices and mashed potatoes were divided into plastic bags, floors swept, dishes washed and cameras put away.  Sleepiness waved its wand and cast a spell across everyone as they melted into rich leather sofas. One by one each retreated to drive back to their homes and bedrooms in each corner of the house. I walked through the threshold of each room turning off lamps and light switches. As I picked up stray cups and dessert plates and board game pieces, I gave thanks for each one of the faces I was with today…and for the ones that are no longer with us.