Thanksgiving Thoughts from an Adoptee
It's been a while since I've written a blog post. The last post, revealing the truth about my birth father (read it if you haven't!) felt like the culmination to my story and I've been struggling with which direction to go in next. I'm not done telling my story about being an adoptee, I know I'm not. I've got to write about my adoptive mom, and adoptive dad, and Irene too. And finally, I need to write about how adoption affects my life today, especially after writing this blog. This has been an emotional, and sometimes difficult process, but it's also been incredibly cathartic pulling all these events together in one place. I've learned a lot about myself this year, and why I react the way that I do in my relationships and friendships. And today, the day before Thanksgiving, I feel unaccountably lonely. Why I wondered? So I tossed my self-imposed outline out the window and decided to write about Thanksgiving, parsing out what is putting me in such a funk this year.
My adoptive parents (whom I will always call my parents) always celebrated Thanksgiving in a pretty big way. Not that we had a lot of extended family - we didn't at all. My dad's parents had died when he was much younger and he had no siblings. My mom's parents lived in Vermont, and sometimes we would drive up to visit them from Massachusetts (where we lived) for Thanksgiving or Christmas. My mom had two siblings, one with a large family, and one with none, but they all lived in New York and we rarely saw them. So there were three of us "kids" until I was 12, and then four of us after my youngest sister was born, along with mom and dad.
We always had a turkey, and my father's fight with this beast in the kitchen was always a bit of a family joke. I don't think that he ever really enjoyed cooking a turkey, at least if the curses coming from behind the closed kitchen door was any indication. But remember the smell of the turkey roasting? We'd be salivating all day! Potatoes, green beans, my mom's cranberry/orange relish, squash, baby onions and pumpkin pie - and an apple pie too, for my mom. And my mom's relish tray filled with sweet pickles and olives. The fancy old china would come out, and the silver that required polishing, along with tiny cordial glasses that us kids were allowed to sip a bit of wine from. By the time the turkey got to the table, dad had typically drowned his turkey misery with a glass or two or more of wine. He carved the darned turkey for years until he finally allowed me to do it. Perhaps he was convinced to give up the carving the year the turkey slid off of the platter and skittered across the table, much to fury of my dad while the rest of us tried hard not to laugh...it really was hilarious in a Triebs family tongue-in-cheek sort of way.
As we all grew older and married and had kids, I would often host Thanksgiving, or my brother would. Later, as my parents became less mobile, we'd all contribute to the meal and bring it to their house. I loved the entire process of planning and cooking and welcoming the family and friends into my house - filled with great smells and candlelight and music. I loved seeing the children and the family - truly I thrived on it. I love to cook for people and this meal of course is one of the most formidable one can undertake. Especially if my son is involved in the planning. He's a magnificent cook himself and back in the day would plan some extraordinary and extensive dishes. I shopped and paid for the groceries, we both cooked all day, and I'd wash the dishes as the day went on. A feast for the senses.
Over the years the family grew and we always tried to get as many of us to participate in the Thanksgiving meal as possible. Now our kids are grown. One sister lives in Mexico in the winter, another lives in Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, where her daughter has children and they now host their own huge Thanksgiving dinner. My brother has an extended family and he and his wife and kids have a feast for their family and friends at their home in Vancouver, WA. My only son is grown now too, thankfully he and his kids live here in Portland. So Thanksgiving has dwindled to the four of us this year. Since my son is a vegetarian, we're not cooking a turkey (which frankly I'm grateful for). We've got an interesting menu, catering to everyone's tastes and dietary needs. When I asked my semi-vegetarian granddaughter and my carnivore grandson what they wanted for Thanksgiving dinner, they both shouted "BACON"!! So we'll have bacon, along with a vegetarian turkey loaf, a ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, vegetarian/gluten free stuffing and a pumpkin pie. We'll have fun tomorrow, I know we will. And we'll play games in the afternoon after our meal and will enjoy being with each other.
But I'm missing the planning and the cooking. I'm missing cooking the pies, and perfecting the gravy, the glorious fragrances, and the anticipation of the family arriving for a festive meal. I dearly miss my mom and dad. I'm missing the man that I've been dating for a year - he and his kids and family are having their own Thanksgiving celebration at his house at the coast.
Does my longing for family and the traditions around holidays have anything to do with being adopted? I'd say absolutely. The one thing I've wanted so very desperately in my life has been family. It's a complicated thought process that I've gradually begun to see more clearly as a result of my writing about my adoption. I had a terrific adoptive family. I found my birth family and I have developed lovely relationships with my birth mother and two birth sisters. I have my son and grandchildren - the most precious people in my life. What I hope will happen is that my core family will expand again in the future to include my future partner's family and kids. And it will undoubtedly include friends who are without their own family. I quite literally need to be surrounded by family.
Holidays can be joyous, and they can be difficult. There are so many family dynamics, dysfunctions and expectations. Everyone has different needs and desires. I'm grateful that I'm finally beginning to see what I need and desire in my own life. It took almost 68 years, but being at peace with myself and my life is an incredible gift.
I hope that you all have truly marvelous Thanksgivings, doing exactly what you want to do.
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