Yesterday, I sat down for a marvelous Thanksgiving meal–the chef, one of my nephews, is a serious foodie (Did you know you could make a very good stuffing with broccoli?)–with 21 members of my family. The group included my husband, three of my children and their spouses/fiancees, my three siblings and their kids, my mother, and two friends that have become family. We’re a group, as my mom says, of all chiefs and no Indians. (She grew up in an era where the moniker Native American didn’t exist.) We’re not perfect–we are overly critical of each other and almost every one of us is sure that the way we do things is the best way which can make it difficult to, oh, load the dishwasher. We argue, grumble, and, at any given time, someone(s) is quite irritated with someone(s) else.
But, several times a year, we all show up for family vacations where we eat, take long walks, hit the tennis/pickleball courts, watch movies (This year we introduced my 88 year old mother to Midnight Run), play games (Fishbowl is a fabulous game for a big group), and laugh over old family stories. We work to use the right pronouns for the non-binary kid and to get everyone to do a stint washing dishes. We spend a lot of time discussing anything and everything. We make an effort not to get in any stupid fights–and when we inevitably do, we endeavor to move on.
This year I am, more so than ever, profoundly grateful for the gift of time with those I love. Two weeks ago, one of my daughter’s best friends, a lovely, giving 29-year-old man, was killed in a senseless car accident. A father and son were drag racing on city streets and slammed into my daughter’s friend’s car at ninety-five miles an hour. His date—their third—died instantly; he was declared brain-dead forty-eight hours later. I can’t imagine being these young people’s parents. When I think of those phone calls to the parents of those two young people, my heart seizes. Deaths such as these–random, unexpected, almost beyond bearing–make me grateful, so grateful, I still have time with those I deeply love. And they leave me determined to not have relational regrets–the truth is that every time you see someone, that day could be the last you’ll ever have with them.
Life is unpredictable, sometimes brutally so. I am so damn lucky to be able to sit, year in and year out, at holiday tables with my family and friends. Such moments are fragile and astonishing–and you’ll have more of them if you love fiercely and forgive easily. I’ve always been a sucker for love and, after this year, I’m more grateful for it than ever.
I hope you too have family and friends that you are grateful for and that this holiday season gives you time with them. And I thank all of you for the community we have here. I’d hug you all if I could!
I’m very sorry to hear about your daughter’s friend and his girlfriend. That’s unbelievably tough.
We had a nice dinner with the kids who were here. I really missed my youngest who moved out of state in Sept. Since the rest of live local, and two of them live with us, family dinners are fun, but not reunions. No extended family was here.
My brother and his wife are celebrating their 50th anniversary next summer, and my sister and I and all the family that can make it are joining them at a place in north Georgia for several days next July. We’ve rented tiny houses and it’s near a lake. I’m really looking forward to seeing everyone! it’s been several years.
I’ve always admired your family’s closeness, Carrie. You and your family are lucky to have each other.
This reflection is both poignant and deeply human, illustrating the complex dynamics of family life alongside the fragility of existence. The author skilfully balances moments of humour, love, and everyday disagreements with the stark realities of mortality, creating a narrative that is relatable and thought-provoking. By weaving personal anecdotes with broader reflections on gratitude and relational priorities, the piece highlights the importance of intentional connection, empathy, and forgiveness. It serves as a reminder of the significance of cherishing time with loved ones and approaching relationships with care and presence, particularly in the face of life’s unpredictability. Academically, it could be appreciated as a strong example of narrative nonfiction that combines personal experience with reflective insight, engaging readers both emotionally and intellectually.
AI, is that you?
Right?! Ha!
I suspected this as well. I just can’t figure out why.
I’m so sorry to read about your friend – what a terrible thing to happen.
For me, Thursday was just a regular day, spent in school trying to encourage teenagers to work on their French/German translations!
We had a family get-together a few weeks ago for my Dad’s birthday – which was his first without my Mum. My eldest couldn’t be there as she works weekends, but the rest of us were together for tea and cake, and he said later that he was pleased that we could all spend that time together.
It is time, I’d bet, you will never regret.
“Deaths such as these–random, unexpected, almost beyond bearing–make me grateful, so grateful, I still have time with those I deeply love. And they leave me determined to not have relational regrets–the truth is that every time you see someone, that day could be the last you’ll ever have with them.”
Dabney, truer words were never spoken and I hope all here take heed of them. My husband and I hosted our annual Thanksgiving party here in England for 12 friends three years ago and two days later he was dead of an unexpected massive coronary at the wheel of his car. Thanksgiving, for me, will never be the same though I do think of it and friends in the US celebrating. I now find something else to do on the day itself. This year I happened to be involved in training sessions for two charities I volunteer with and Thanksgiving was not so much in my thoughts though it has always been such a wonderful time of the year. I am blessed with great friends who are more to me than family and I am always reminded of my Mom saying, “you can choose your friends, but not your family”. I have chosen extremely well! I have lovely friends near to me and in several countries, here at AAR and in my voluntary work. For them all I give my whole-hearted thanks.
My children are adventurers and hikers and humans. It is the work of a parent’s lifetime not to be consumed with worry that a child could die or be horribly hurt. The only antidote to that I’ve found is to cherish the times I am given now. (That and a lot doing the math on actual risk.)
I am so sorry for your loss, Elaine. I’m happy you’ve found a community here and elsewhere that sustains you.