There She Goes Again...

Here's what my grandmother taught me:

I guess I first heard it when I was only nine or ten years old: During Thanksgiving dinner at my maternal grandmother's house, while the last crumbs of pie crust were being forked into our happy mouths, Gram would say, "This might be my last Thanksgiving..." As the years went by, this declaration wouldn't be cause for somber reflection, but rather some good-natured speculation as to what Gram might want for Christmas that year -- A cruise? Pearl earrings? Every year we knew "it" was coming, and it seems that the saying of "it" kept the actual possibility at bay year, after year, after year...

Gram went on to make that same "last Thanksgiving" proclamation for another thirty years or so, surviving cancer but living what could be considered a healthy life well into her eighties, and sharing Thanksgiving and other holidays with great-grandchildren and even great-great-grandchildren. She finally had her last Thanksgiving at age 89.

Her life was surely full of challenges -- two World Wars; raising children through Depression, flu and polio breakouts; and widowhood. Those events and influences can color a person's perspective. But Gram didn't behave as though she was waiting for the next disaster to happen, at least not while I knew her. It's taken me a while, but I think I finally figured out that my grandmother had her own way of saying we should make the most of every day. I am still perfecting that knowledge, but the lesson has stuck with me. With practice, I think I'll get it right, before my own last Thanksgiving.