So, Turn The Page Already!
If you live long enough, change and endings are inevitable. I will not gather my family together for Thanksgiving Dinner. this year. I am in the process of dealing with that.
It hasn't happened suddenly. It 's a long time since I did everything. The family grew. First were the children. Then they were teenagers with friends. After that, they were couples, then there were grandchildren. Sometimes the odd set of parents of spouses came, then friends of grandchildren. The numbers were always more than thirty and sometimes over forty.
I was obsessive about some things. A table or tables had to be set and Grace said. Plates needed to be hot and food steaming. Bread sauce called for onions and cloves to be soaked in milk on top of the stove all day, to be finished with soft white crumbs, cream and butter. Pies had to be home-baked, served still warm with freshly whipped cream
Cranberry sauce was made with orange juice and slivered almonds. One year I served it in cups of half oranges with the innards scooped out..... very pretty...never did that again.
The ham would be baked the day before and form part of the decor. In a clear amber coating with pineapple rings and studded with cloves, it held pride of place on the sideboard. Sausage stuffing with sage and onion was also made the night before. On the day, everybody stayed close to the kitchen. Stuffing had to be sampled and the rich gravy from the drippings sipped from a spoon. Grandchildren darted in like magpies to steal Aunt Heather's hot crusty buns as they came from the oven.
In time, gourmet vegetables and other dishes came from satellite homes. It all added to the festivity.
The talk would swell as the wine flowed and gales of laughter regularly erupted. My minstrel son, 
Frank, would sometimes bring his guitar - to the delight of all present. As grandchildren grew they joined the adult circle and shared in the sometimes raucous hilarity. But there were still always little ones tumbling about.
The change was gradual. My daughter Heather, without whose help the event would long have been impossible, put her foot down.
"You can't hope to sit everyone at a table, Mother. Give it up. Plates cups and cutlery have to be paper and plastic." Since she was in charge of the clean-up, that's how it came to be. It certainly made things easier.
Tipsy Trifle no longer appeared on the dessert table. Some desserts became store-bought but Brie cheese rounds baked in pastry and served with red-pepper jelly made a new and highly delectable appearance as an appetizer from the kitchen of Storm. Two types of punch were a resplendent display of strawberries, kiwi and star fruits, the creation of Marnie,. Theresa's Ceasar salad was a hit with everybody.
Then no-shows began. First one grandchild, then another and, inevitably, Thanksgiving at Grannie's became second choice on some years. .Other excitements beckoned. Now , the satellites are wider afield; London, Peterborough, Ottawa, Sudbury, Seattle and Korea for goodness sake.
Heather, who has been a stay-at-home mother, acquired skills in election organizing. When it's happening, the task is almost twenty-four/seven. She has long been my co-host, my election campaign organizer, my manager and involved with sundry other tasks too numerous to mention. Without her, Thanksgiving dinner would have been beyond me years ago. This year, a provincial election overlaps Thanksgiving.
This family has been almost sixty years in the making. I brought two sons from England. Then there were three more and two daughters. They envied their friends family reunions. So I built it for them. I nurtured it, it grew and flourished. Now they are each other's friends.
Grandchildren know their cousins as blood brothers and sisters. There are no family feuds.. Thanksgiving gatherings have always been a joy. My task is done.
Am I sad? Not at this moment.
I have often pondered the question, at what point does a parent stop being a parent.? Is it when children become adults? No, not then. There is no precise moment. But on the basis of my experience, I have to say, if children have been raised to stand on their own feet, there comes a time when they do exactly that and there is no longer a parental role.
Mine have been independent many times longer than they were dependent. I have grown accustomed to the fact.
This year, Thanksgiving at Grannie's house will not be.. It may never happen again the way it was. Was it precious?.... .. Indeed it was......Indeed it was.
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