Savoring The Process

I've begun preparations for Thanksgiving even though I'm so not ready for it. November and December are much like July and August. Once they begin, they are gone in the blink of an eye. I'll admit, because owning it is the first step, it leaves me a bit crabby and out of sorts. I miss my summer/fall routine, I miss putzing around in the garden every day, I miss the daylight and lament daylight savings time. I rush to get home and get the dogs walked before I lose the light. I miss my motivation to be any sort of productive after the sun sets.

Back to the preparations. I cubed bread today for homemade stuffing. Yes, I know you can buy dried bread for stuffing. You can buy complete stuffing mixes. No way it could be as good as doing it myself. I've cubed it myself. Stirred it myself, I've lavished it with love. It's different now, it's like bread 2.0. I just can't give up the tradition. There is comfort in the process. It also reminds me of the poignancy of loss. I've done this for years, sometimes without thought. Sometimes with great thought. In the end I'll be glad I made the effort, turning dried bread into something savory, something greater than the sum of its parts. 

The holiday season reminds us not only of good times and family, but of the losses along the way. Even as we get further out from grief events the feelings return and weigh heavy. Perhaps not as much as the first couple years, but we do feel the shadow. Still, we go through the motions as best we can. We buy the turkey; we cube the bread. We look forward to the celebration, and yes, we give thanks.

It may not feel the same as life before loss. It may leave us longing and sad. But it is life as we know it now. Both blessed and broken. So, we move through the rituals. Even the ones we question just a little bit, and then do the way we always have. Knowing, trusting and investing our love in the process. Grateful we have love to give and to receive.