For the Kids

    I awoke on Thanksgiving morning and lay in bed. On any other day, I would have enjoyed the slothful idleness, but not on this day. Sandi’s mother had passed away six months earlier and, for the first time in my life, I had no living, older generation. From now on, holidays would have no hurried trips from here to there, no bundling up the kids to get Grandma, no hustle and bustle and no family greetings. This year, only the four of us, James, Ian, Sandi and I, would share our table. The very thought turned my holiday spirit into a vague shadow. 

    Now that the Sandi’s mom was gone, I had no one to call, no experience from a trusted and beloved elder to advise and guide me. Trying to get a handle on things, I thought back to my youth, after my grandparents had passed. When I asked Mom how she could handle the holidays, she relied on folk wisdom. 

    “Life goes on,” she intoned, “Besides we need to do it for the kids.” 

    “But why should we bother?” I pressed. 

    “Just for the kids,” she answered with a gentle smile. 

    The noise from James and Ian squabbling in their bedroom fueled my reverie. Although they missed their grandmother, they didn’t let the loss diminish their lives. They still loved and wanted presents. They still looked forward to and enjoyed the holidays. I may be jaded by nearly six decades of holidays, but anxious anticipation and holiday excitement is still fresh and new to them. They deserve their holiday memories, just as I had mine. 

    “Just do it for the kids. Do it for the kids,” my mother’s words echoed in my head. My thoughts, sodden with apathy and self pity, gave way to a sudden clarity as I realized what my mother had learned so many years before. We say that we carry on for the kids, but, that’s only part of it. By doing things “for the kids,” we actually enable our children to heal us.     

    Unconsciously and unaware, we switch from caregiver to dependent as the things that we do, for the kids, ease our sense of loss. Feeling slightly ashamed of my selfishness, I got up, dressed and went to Sandi in the kitchen. 

    “I see you finally made it out of bed,” she said with a smile. 

    “Yeah,” I answered, returning her smile. “Even though your mom’s not here, it’s still Thanksgiving and we need to have a good one. You know, for the kids.”

Bill Bartlett will spend Thanksgiving with his wife, Sandi, and their two sons in Belton.