The cold water bottles in the fridge were only slightly cooler than room temperature. The melted ice cream filled the tray it was in. My daughter was almost in tears at the sight of one last thing going wrong today. Standing there, holding containers of food meant for tomorrow, the weight of it all hit me. These are the moments when it really, truly sucks to not have a family.

To be a single mom trying to be the entire family for an only child.
To try and hold everything together when so much feels out of place.
To feel pressed in on every side, with one trigger after another all day long.

It’s a lot. I took a deep breath, and we packed everything back into the car and drove across town to borrow space in another refrigerator. I’m thankful that was an option as a catered meals are not cheap. We worked so hard to plan and prepare to make it as easy as possible to get through another holiday, but sometimes, life happens.

I don’t know that the hollow ache of knowing there will always be empty seats at the table ever fully goes away. But my grief is always changing. It ebbs and flows as it becomes more layered and complicated. I’ve made peace with this feeling of needing to cry so often. Maybe it’s because some core parts returned this year, bringing memories and emotions that had been held away from me my whole life. Maybe it’s because someone is too close to the front right now and it’s interfering with what I’m able to remember. Or maybe it’s because I just realized the truth. I’m not sure yet, but other than last year, I can’t remember a single Thanksgiving. Not a happy one. Not a tragic one. Just… nothing.

Tomorrow is still Thanksgiving 2025.

We’ll sleep in late.
We’ll panic when we discover the coffee creamer is no longer good.
We’ll eventually pick up our Thanksgiving meal and bring it home to warm it up.
We’ll eat it together at our table, just the two of us, and laugh at the turkey shaped squeaker toy we have for the dog.

Warm blankets and hot tea are calling my name. Grief is sitting beside gratitude trying hard to befriend one another, both of them part of this never-ending process of learning to live, heal, and find moments of joy in the midst of the ache. I want to lay in bed and fall asleep to scripture being spoken over me. I’m so grateful for the many YouTube videos that can do that for me when I feel isolated and alone. I know how to shift my atmosphere, I know all is well.

But tonight, I’m exhausted in every way. When I find myself thinking perhaps a new tradition will be birthed out of using an ice chest, I know it’s past time to go to bed. Tomorrow is still coming with its chance to try again, and for that, I am grateful. His mercies are new every morning.

If you’re having as much fun as I am this evening, this prayer might help. PRAYER FOR THOSE WHO HAVE A BROKEN HEART AND WHO NEED HEALING IN THEIR SPIRIT AND SOUL