I hate Thanksgiving for one reason. My friend committed accidental suicide on the 23rd six years ago. I visited his grave on the way to my Thanksgiving with my family every single year. This year, of course, I cannot go.
And this year, the 23rd falls on Thanksgiving...just like that time.
Even though I don't cry anymore, I still remember every single year how, during Thanksgiving dinner with my family, I got a phone call asking if I had read the paper, because Tim was dead.
I remember running to my neighbours house in frantic tears asking for the paper, saying I'd give it back but they didn't want it.
I remember being grounded because I was so lost, I aimlessly walked through my apartment complex for what I thought was an hour, but turned out to be four.
I remember sitting on the swing set with my best friend as we cried over why we wished Tim was back with us. How she admitted to me she was going to ask him out when we got back to school on Monday.
I am not sad... I am not upset... I just remember.. and I get very quiet and I think. I think a lot.
And people always wonder what's wrong and look at me and say, "Hey, cheer up, it's Thanksgiving!!!"
And all I can think of to be thankful for... is that nobody called this year during dinner.



Reply With Quote

Bookmarks