Strange, strange Thanksgiving. The caravan north left with Kristen and me alone. I would have preferred to be totally alone because I needed to mourn Grandpa Pyle. It feels that everyone is so relieved that he is not suffering that they are taking no time to remember his life. I really wanted to get a website designed 2 years ago for his descendants and it's not a good thing that it did not get completed. There will be no funeral at this time and the URL would have been a benefit at the end of the obituary. Kristen was uncomfortable with my sadness and kept trying to cheer me up when I really needed to get through this.
Grandma Cole's house was packed to the rafters with family. It was the typical Thanksgiving meal and one end of the table couldn't hear what was going on at the other end. An engagement was announced and little kids were added to the big table. Everyone ate too much and retired to video games, the toy room or clean up. Some of the little kids took naps and then Christmas started with the sock ritual and the white elephant exchange and little kid Bingo.
My highlight was being alone with my dad at the empty Thanksgiving table and with the open opportunity asking him about the first Christmas he could remember. At first he didn't want to respond, just kind of looked at me, but then he started to talk and he told me wonderful things about his childhood that I must record before I forget them. It was unfortunate that the Sock Ritual broke the flow because I could not reconnect with him again. I hope to be able to find out more about his early life. He is not verbose at all and hearing him tell stories was a rare treat.
Four of us moved to Dorothy's house for the evening to make more room on River Road. This was a rather unsettling experience. I had a hard time falling asleep, but did manage to get some sleep early in the morning. I am thankful for Dorothy's life and contribution through the farm, for Grandpa Pyle and his legacy and for learning more about my Dad and his early years.
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