The holiday season often brings a mix of emotions, particularly grief, which can overshadow the joy typically associated with this time of year. However, cherished memories, especially those centered around the kitchen and dining table, can help ease the pain.
As November rolls around, a sense of sadness envelops my family, a shared grief that weighs heavily on our hearts and dims the holiday spirit. This feeling intensifies with the approach of our festive gatherings, particularly since we lost the matriarch of our family, my grandmother, three years ago.
We always eagerly anticipated her grand holiday feast. She prepared many of the traditional dishes, along with a few less popular items that the children and some adults tended to avoid. Countless hours were spent in the kitchen as she chopped and baked, often calling on the nearest family member to dash to the store for any missing ingredients. My mother would assist her, enduring some good-natured ribbing along the way. After two full days of meticulous preparation, the moment would finally arrive when we gathered for dinner, albeit briefly, in a hushed reverence.
Her gravy was legendary. Our household lacked a gravy boat large enough to contain it, so she would prepare it in a massive soup pot, keeping it warm on the stove. The buffet line would invariably come to a standstill as everyone piled their plates high with the irresistible sauce. When asked about her secret ingredient, she would simply smile and say, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” As a child, I was convinced that there was some kind of magic at work in her kitchen.
We acknowledge the sorrow that accompanies the holidays. Family members would travel from afar, often unexpectedly, and there was always an abundance of food to accommodate anyone who joined us. She poured love into the turkey, blending it with butter and herbs, and infused patience and understanding into the pecan pie.
After we had eaten our fill, the women would start the cleanup while the men gathered around to play dominoes and strum their guitars. Hours would drift by around her kitchen table, with the sounds of laughter and dominoes clattering echoing from the guest room where we children lay. We eagerly anticipated the day when we would be old enough to join in on the fun.
As I matured and began serving myself, I steered clear of the dreaded pea salad and piled my plate with stuffing instead. One year, I indulged in so many rolls that I was rendered immobile for an hour, but it was a small price to pay for the joy it brought me. The way she smiled at me as I savored every bite made the meal feel special, as if she had prepared all of it solely for my enjoyment. Her warmth had the same effect on everyone, young and old alike.
Our meals have changed considerably since then. The pea salad has been replaced by mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese has become a new favorite. I attempted to recreate Grandma’s green bean casserole once, and now it’s a dish we demand at every gathering. This year, I followed her recipe, but her absence was the one ingredient we all felt missing.
The post-meal domino games and guitar sessions have been replaced by new traditions, including playing a card game called Demon, which resembles triple solitaire, or engaging in Scattegories. Before we dive into the meal, we take turns expressing our gratitude. I always start with my appreciation for our quirky family, passing the baton to my husband. Music still fills the air during cleanup, but now it’s Kesha and Hozier instead of Elvis and Tanya Tucker. We share laughter and lightly tease each other while also creating space for tears and reminiscences.
Our table has expanded over the years, welcoming new friends who quickly feel like family. We strive to find joy in the moments we share, nurturing community and love among those of us left behind. I endeavor to channel her spirit of patience, understanding, and unconditional love into the potatoes, green beans, and pie.
Yet, beneath the surface, there remains a sense of grief in the gravy, and the ham carries a trace of loss. We do not shy away from acknowledging the heartache that the holidays bring. We are learning to navigate life without those we hold dear, honoring their memories through cherished traditions, beloved recipes, and the love they bestowed upon us. While it is not easy, it is a vital step in our healing journey.
