Can you make a Thanksgiving at a restaurant?

It may be a silly thought. I’m sure that people do make a happy Thanksgiving at restaurants every year. And probably have for as long as there have been restaurants and Thanksgiving.

In my case, I have been luckier.  Ever since before I was born, my family has held Thanksgiving dinner at home.  For the past 59 years, at my mothers home. Sometimes it was just a few of us, other times there were tables set up all over the house. But it was always at my mother’s house.

And although this delighted me, it was not always a hit with my former wives.  But still it was tradition that reached back into my past much farther than they did. And I was inflexible.

Other holidays have fallen.  Mother’s day, Easter, and last year even Christmas, all home cooked meals that were outsourced, not to carry in, but to dine out. I didn’t complain.  I realized that if I was in my late 50’s that put my mother in her early 80’s.  Cleaning and cooking for holidays is hard work.  It doesn’t matter if it’s for five or thirty family and a dozen or so strays and their families that my mother would befriend and, for a day, make them feel as at home and as much a part of the family as I did. 

We all pitched in to help cook and prepare. But it just got to be too much. So one at a time the holidays fell.  But no matter what happened I still had Thanksgiving.

Until today.

Now I realize that thanksgiving is celebrated across the United States.  And everybody SAYS that it is a day to reflect on friends and family and the few or many gifts life had bestowed on you. People SAY that, but I felt it.  I didn’t realize just how much I felt it until my Mother told me about two weeks ago that she and my youngest brother were looking for a restaurant to make thanksgiving reservations.

I smiled.  I don’t know why I smiled. I certainly didn’t feel like smiling, I felt like running around the room like a spoiled three year old, smashing thing indiscriminately and screaming “No, no, no, no, no!!! “ 

But I smiled.  I offered other alternative and the discussion was long, but in the end fruitless.  Today my mother, my brothers, our sons, and even a new great grandson ate thanksgiving dinner… out.

It took me a while to wrap my head around it.  And I am not a good enough actor to hide my displeasure in the entire affair.  We had eaten many meals at this particular restaurant before and the food had always been good. 

Today I didn’t like a bite of it. However, I couldn’t tell you if it was any good.  I didn’t taste it. I did my best to make light of everything that I was hating, but I’m not sure I fooled anyone.  It wasn’t a tantrum, It wasn’t moping. My thanksgiving was broken and I was realizing that it wasn’t the food.

Since I was nine or so, my brothers and I had been living in a true matriarchy.  My mother was the head of the family.  You just didn’t say no, because you never wanted to disappoint her.  My middle brother traveled from across country to see her.  His eldest son and my eldest son brought their families from states away to see her too.  And my mother was now eighty-three. 

The three hundred pound gorilla sitting in my lap was not about loosing a home cooked meal.  It was about loosing my mother and perhaps my family. Would we still gather in years to come after my mother was gone. Or would we, like so many other families be relegated to seeing each other only during some five or ten year reunion. 

These are questions to which I have no answer. I cannot answer. It’s not just up to me.

So the next gathering is Christmas.  And we will be eating out.  But my attitude will be different. I won’t be secretly grousing about the food.  Because the food won’t matter.  The place will not matter.  Only holding my family close for as long as I can will matter.  And marking every moment we share together.

And that will matter most.

Be Well.