This is Taco Thanksgiving

I haven't updated in a while.  Forgive me.  I'd been warned how difficult the holidays could be and I thought that meant I was prepared for it, but I really wasn't.  Here's what Thanksgiving Day looked like for me:

Grading.
Leftovers (wings and pasta mostly).
Lois and Clark, an entire season's worth (yes, I stayed up 'til 6:30 am watching TV and avoiding my melancholy).

Now, before you go feeling all sorry for me, know that I DID have several offers by wonderful people, but that Thanksgiving traditions as YOU know them are pretty meaningless to me, anyway.  I CHOSE to be alone.  I felt pretty happy to have a day to MYSELF, to get caught up on grading and housework and just lounge around in my footie pajamas with the dogs and not have anywhere to be. I relished in letting the pinpricks in my eyes come and go as they pleased, imagining and remembering and wondering in the privacy of my new home.

Besides, for me and mine, it's all about

TACO THANKSGIVING!

The tradition started the Thanksgiving when I was 15.  My parents' divorce was almost final, and my mom moved out just before Thanksgiving Day.  A new apartment with almost no furnishings, no money to speak of, and no one was in the mood to cook, anyway.  So Mom went to Taco Bell and brought back tacos.  We ate them over cardboard boxes and milk crates and it was the most relaxing, delicious Thanksgiving meal we'd ever had.  None of us love to cook, none of us love turkey or overly sweetened sweet potatoes or stuffing....but TACOS. 

So now, every year, we make WAAAAAAAY too much food for a taco bar and eat until we are about to explode.  Everyone LOVES it, and the leftovers last us all week in the most delightful way. Paul was allergic to turkey.  It was a sign.  :)

Caida crawled up onto my lap today after eating and napping.  It should be explained that she's nine and has special needs, so all of this has been hard to process for her, too.  On top of that, my mom's kitten had to be put down earlier this week and they buried her in Caida's front yard.  So, she crawled up into my lap to ask me, "Where's Paul?"
"Caida, you know where he is," I answered, not really sure if she did.
"At home?"
"No."
"At work?"
"No."
"Dead?"
"Yes."
A clumsy-caring caress of my cheek.  "Well, at least he has a kitten now."

I appreciated her bluntness over everyone else's silence.

Truthfully I'm kinda dreading this next month or so.  SO much to do with work and holiday "cheer," and I can feel the loneliness pulling at my heart more strongly each day.  It's harder than I thought it would be.  I never realized how much of my happiness and good memories were wrapped up in him and it's just been quite the adjustment.  And all the friends and family in the world can't take his place.  I find myself longing for heaven in a sad way, knowing that I'm meant to stay here for a while and figure a few things out on my own for now.  I find myself impulse buying and planning grand adventures just to be excited to be alive. 

It's not that I'm not grateful.  I have a GREAT MANY things to be thankful for, large and small, and I acknowledge those daily in public and private.  Be my friend on Facebook if you don't believe me.  :)  But knowing that and feeling that are not the same.  Right now I just feel tired and small and sad and wishing that I got to keep him here with me a little longer.

I'm told that's normal.
I wish that helped. 

I believe in scattering sunshine, friends, I really do.  I try not to share much of the HARDNESS of it all because I think there is enough hardness and darkness in the world and I want to be a beacon of happiness and hope.  And most of the time, really and truly, I feel up to the challenge.  My life is blessed in abundance, and I am not denying the miracles I've seen and felt or the incredible love of God, family, and friends. 

But today...

Today is Taco Thanksgiving, and I am an island.