When my family told me I had to host Thanksgiving, I got nervous. I had never cooked a turkey before, let alone made cranberry sauce. It had to be perfect like the family Thanksgivings we used to have. I knew it would be tough. My parents hadn’t seen each other in years, and my sisters hadn’t spoken in months. Plus, both my grandparents are dead.
But who said dead grandparents can’t celebrate the holidays?
After I removed their frail bodies from the earth, I took them to my favorite taxidermist. The results stunned me. Grandpa’s hair sparkled in the light. Grandma’s mouth opened as if she were perpetually in mid-sentence. The taxidermist even outfitted my grandmother with a fur pelt on her back. She was always so cold.
As we took our places at the table, everyone ate and drank in silence. They reveled in the opportunity to be together again and no doubt kept quiet until Grandma or Grandpa initiated conversation out of respect. But to test our stubbornness, my grandparents chose to keep quiet.
That is, until my grandfather purposely fell out of his chair onto the floor. He was always the comedian. Even though he lay paralyzed in hospice care just four months ago, it brought me so much joy to see him back to his old self. When I invited my nephews to feed him yams, Grandpa sealed his lips shut like a child. My nephews cried of laughter. My parents didn’t even make eye contact because they knew they’d erupt in laughter too. It made me think of all the good times we had as kids.
My sisters started prepping the desserts after dinner. Within minutes, they erupted into a boisterous argument that Grandma cleverly avoided. When my sisters turned around and saw the glare in Grandma’s new eyes, they stopped berating one another. Grandma’s presence was always so powerful, and I know it warmed her heart to see them talking again.
I was so happy watching them from inside the wall. Then I heard them mention my name. They were concerned about how much I had already done to make Thanksgiving special and felt they needed to do something.
There was nothing they could do.
I checked on Grandpa. He napped on the couch with my nephews. Their pale complexion signaled they clearly had enough to eat. They couldn’t even move. Even my parents looked comfortable to be in each other’s company. They lay scattered across the carpet with their eyes wide open, their wine glasses shattered. Seeing these goofballs so relaxed made me thankful to have them all in my home. Forever.
And I couldn’t have done this without my trusted taxidermist. His work brought my family together and saved Thanksgiving. I can’t wait to return so he can save Christmas too. With his help, my parents, sisters, and nephews will join my grandparents at the table. We’ll reminisce, eat, drink, and be merry. No one can ever take that away.
I’ll always be thankful for this beautiful memory with my family. What are you thankful for this year?