My dad had always been “the turkey guy.” At our house, I typically came to expect dad in the backyard frying the turkey and then a stressful family meal in the evening.
A traditional turkey in the oven was never dangerous enough for him. No, he preferred the method that involved dropping a heavy bird into a prepared metal tub of hot oil. He loved living life on the edge.
This year, it will be our second Thanksgiving without him.
In July of 2023, my dad died from injuries sustained after a horrific motorcycle accident at age 46. So, obviously this time of year has become an especially hard time without him.
Last year, we had to learn to adjust. My mom worked extra hard to make everything as perfect as she could. The house was spotless. There was honey-baked ham, so many casseroles, but a noticeably absent turkey.
Like I said, my dad was always “the turkey guy.”After he died, we had some hard conversations to prepare for our first holidays without him. How can we remember him? What would he have wanted us to do? What about the turkey?
Our typical answer is that we don’t know.
After losing someone, especially a parent, it is difficult not to miss them during the holidays. It is hard to ignore the important roles they would take up, like handling the turkey.
For my family, we refused to pretend like he was not gone. We did not want to stuff that gaping hole he had left with Thanksgiving stuffing and pumpkin pie.
So, we lost the turkey.
That Thanksgiving, it seemed to have everything but him. It hurt looking around and not seeing him crack a joke with a beer can in his hand. It stung when it finally came time for everyone to grab their first helping and he was not there talking up his fried turkey.
This year, we have to face yet another Thanksgiving without him. My mom, sister and I are likely to once again see the turkey absent from the table.
I’ve talked with my mom and sister about what they want to do this year. Their answer? I don’t know.
At our house, Thanksgiving looks a lot different without my dad. Instead of pretending not to notice his absence, it has helped to make his absence more visible. We leave him a seat, discard the turkey and talk about our favorite memories of him.
I wish that I had been less afraid of that tub of hot oil and saw the joy in his eyes while cooking the turkey. I wish I would have been able to know that the last Thanksgiving with him was the actual last.
I guess, weirdly, I’m stuck wishing I was more thankful for him and his turkey.
I like to think he would like me dubbing him “the turkey guy.” I think he would stick his tongue out and prod me for admitting I miss his turkey pride. He would laugh at how much I miss him frying the turkey.
Please be extra thankful for those parts of Thanksgiving that you might not think twice about.