This was my second Thanksgiving without Jeff and I did alright. It helps that Thanksgiving wasn't one of his favorites so I have good memories without all the hype, not like Christmas.
I did have my moments, like after I fried up a batch of onions to use as the topping for the green bean casserole. One of Jeff's favorites. I had to make it gluten free this year and so I also really need to change the recipe. I know Jeff would have loved the new experiment especially if it meant he could add more spices to something. He never thought there were enough spices in anything really (hello, Old Bay Seasoning!) One year he made the green bean casserole for Easter and dumped half a bottle of dried garlic powder into it. Because one teaspoon did not look like enough. It was inedible and became quite the family joke. After that Easter, everyone would ask me if Jeff "helped" with the green bean casserole before taking a spoonful. I felt a bit sad after making the dish. But I powered on.
I also took a second to squirt whip cream into both boys mouths with the Reddi Wip. Something Jeff was famous for. A can of Reddi Wip did not live long at my house. Both boys tilted their heads back, mouth open like little birds (they remember this from Daddy) and I gave them each a mouth full before decorating the pies. As I squirted into both of their mouths I said "remember daddy". Jeff didn't try to hide these things, he wore his whip cream and spice addiction with honor. I am sure my boys will too.
The day was fine. I know a woman at my GriefShare said that the second year was hardest. I get what she meant but I am not sure I agree. It was hard but not harder than last year. I found that I didn't cry this year and in some ways that made the day harder. See, this sounds weird but your grief becomes a shield in a way. You openly cry: you openly talk about your loss. Then slowly that starts to disappear and you almost find yourself grieving for your lost grief.
It isn't guilt. I don't feel guilty for where I am. The day after Jeff died I got out of bed, breathed, walked around out of sheer force of will. I do that everyday. I am proud that I did not curl up in my bed and whither away and die. Because I will be honest, it would have been my first choice. Except, I had boys. I had boys that needed a mother and I was not about to abandon them. But sometimes, sometimes it feels disloyal. Like I should grieve more, I should cry more, I should be more depressed over Jeff's loss.
I know why I'm not. I'm a tough Bitch and I own it. I miss Jeff everyday but I didn't stop living. I grieve for Jeff everyday but that grief is not as strong, not as hurtful, not as powerful as it was a year ago.
It does make this holiday season harder because it feels like he is slipping away again. First I loose the man then I loose the grief that has been the focus of my life for almost two years. Oh, I still have my moments. I just didn't on Thanksgiving.
Sincerely,
Jeff's Widow
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