Seasons

Fall is by far my favorite time of year. Even though this year in Texas fall-like weather is taking its time getting here, I know it’s coming. The relief after a long, hot, busy summer will be welcome.

Football. Candy Corn. (I don’t want to hear it from the haters.) My birthday. The lead in to the holiday celebrations over the next couple of months. For me, it’s typically been a time of reflection as we transition to a new season and, before you know it, a new year.

Growing up, I enjoyed the food, road trips, food, family gatherings (sometimes), food, gift giving (and receiving), and the food that were typically involved in the fall and early winter holidays.

Sorrow of the Seasons

As I’ve grown older, some of the fun of the holidays has subsided. I still try to keep it (as) fun (as I can) for my kids, but they are both teens now, so their excitement, while still there, has changed as well.

Many people struggle during the holidays for various reasons. My dad always did. His sister died just before Christmas when I was four years old. I’m not sure he really ever came to terms with her passing. I don’t have a memory of Christmas without my dad being at least a little melancholy.

I understand. My dad died thirteen years ago this November, and in a lot of ways, I don’t think I’ve completely gotten over that yet. I sometimes still think to call him when I want to talk, and his number is still in my phone contact list. I wish my kids had more memories of him. They were so young when he died that I think their “memories” have formed mostly from stories we’ve told and pictures they’ve seen.

I wish I’d seen him one last time before he died so I could have said goodbye. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but it would have been nice.

There’s a passage from the third Harry Potter book that stuck with me since the first time I read it.

“You think the dead we love truly leave us? You think that we don’t recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you…and shows himself most plainly when you most have need of him.”

I’m not a very spiritual person anymore. I don’t believe in ghosts. But there is truth in what she wrote. Everyone we interact with (for better or worse) shapes us and makes us who we are. I’d say this is especially true for parents.

I (thankfully) did not inherit my dad’s bad habits, but a part of him is with me when I need him.

The advice he gave me that I didn’t always follow.

His smart-ass remarks that I often repeat now.

The compassion that he tried to hide behind his gruff exterior. (It didn’t fool me.)

His calm demeanor, even under pressure. (Some of that may have been alcohol…but I digress.)

All of that is still here with me. And I’m thankful for that.

Giving Thanks

I’m independent to a fault and have a difficult time asking for help. But I’ve realized the past few years that I don’t have to deal with things on my own. I have folks who I can lean on when needed.

In a broader sense, we all have that in some way. Be it family, friends, coworkers, neighbors. We all have some sort of support group around us that we can lean on when life happens. Our communities.

Even thinking about the holidays coming up, all of the festivities and celebrations that occur in the fall and winter months are done in communities. With family. With friends. With people we care about and who care about us.

We don’t celebrate in isolation. We trick or treat with neighbors. We feast with family. We give and receive gifts with friends, family, and even (at times) strangers through charities.

I’m thankful everyday for the opportunities I’ve been given and the people I’ve been fortunate enough to share my life with…even if I don’t always know how to show it.

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