Journal of a Living Lady #89

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

Where has a year gone? This time last year I was in the hospital, desperately ill and desperately wanting to go home for the holiday. My dance with cancer was going badly and the music melancholy.  Sunnie Anne and Bob, my two youngest siblings, were on the way to Georgia.

 

This year, if all goes as planned, Buddy, Charlie and I will be enjoying Thanksgiving dinner with the family in Mississippi. I am not well, but neither am I critical. In one word, I am stable. The bone pain is still there, but pain is a good indication that you are still alive.

 

A lot has transpired in twelve months. My oldest brother Charles had a heart attack while hunting in the woods. Miraculously he survived. My Aunt Carmen in Las Vegas was told she had terminal lung cancer. She is fighting and beyond her projected expiration date.

 

The wife of my middle brother, Mike,  went through a  breast cancer scare. Thankfully the disease was caught early.  The young adult son of another sister-in-law had treatment for serious testicular cancer. He, too, is ahead of the game.  Finally, my lively ninety-eight-year old mother-in-law, never before seriously ill, became weak, frail, and bed-ridden. She wonders why she has lived so long and is eager for the angels to carry her home.

 

Ironically, both my parents died during Thanksgiving week, sixteen years apart on the same floor of the same hospital attended by the same doctor. You might think I dread this time of the year, but I don’t. While there are some sad memories, there are many cheerful ones too.

 

In my closet is a pilgrim dress  I frequently wore to Thanksgiving activities while I was a school principal. The bonnet and white apron are yellowing from age, but I never look at that costume without thinking about Tommy.

 

One of our annual Thanksgiving projects was for all the children to write an essay on thankfulness. The best essays were read in the school assembly. Those who weren’t old enough to write essays could draw a picture depicting something for which they were thankful.

 

While touring a kindergarten room in that pilgrim dress,  I noticed Tommy was drawing a realistic-looking turkey: fat body, slender neck, hanging jowls, and colorful feathers. When I made a second passing, Tommy was vigorously marking a large black “X” over the turkey. Drawing on my psycho-educational background, I wondered if Tommy was demonstrating suppressed hostility. I probed for further signs.

 

“Tommy, that is a lovely drawing of a turkey.” He nodded in agreement. “I am puzzled by the big ‘X’ though.  Is this a picture of what you are thankful for?”

 

 Tommy didn’t hesitate. “It is. I am thankful that I am not a turkey.”

 

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