A Family Treasure: The Thanksgiving Memories That Bind Us
Every year, Thanksgiving brings back a flood of cherished memories etched in the hearts of those who partake in the joy of the holiday. For me, those memories are tied to the warmth of my grandparents. Growing up, Thanksgiving was not just a feast but a celebration of family, tradition, and the simple moments that make life beautiful.
My Grandparents' Thanksgiving
My grandparents made every Thanksgiving memorable and special. They crafted a unique blend of joy, family bonding, and hilarious moments that have become as iconic to me as the holiday itself.
One of my fondest memories is the “roughhousing” that would ensue between my dad and uncles. They would gather together in a small corner of the living room, comparing notes and exchanging gossip, which inevitably led to playful pranks on the unsuspecting aunts in the group. It was during these moments that my grandpa would slip away to a quieter spot, only to be pounced on by the rambunctious grandkids—usually just me and my cousins.
Family Feasts and Turbulent Innocence
As we piled into the dining room, the smell of cooking wafting from the kitchen, the real magic of the day began. My cousins would be glued to their phones or engaged in the latest video trends or high scoring video games. Meanwhile, my grandma was already knee-deep in her culinary preparations, her kitchen a flurry of activity. Despite her insistence that she did not let “just anyone” help with her meals, she never could turn down a willing and urgent helper. Little did anyone know, under my grandma’s watchful eye, I was an unannounced—and sometimes unwanted—assistant.
I was that kid who, from a very young age, started joining in. I would quietly prep vegetables, roll out dough, and place pans in the oven, all the while hoping to catch my grandma’s attention. Eventually, my aunts noticed my presence and, of course, the first thing they’d ask was: “Why isn’t my grandkid helping?” But when it came to grandma, anything but bantering seemed to be an overstep. So, with a simple “we're almost done, there’s nothing left to do, let them stare at their phones and have a seat,” I became a permanent fixture in her kitchen.
A Special Bond and Unexpected Loss
How did I become grandpa’s personal assistant in the kitchen? Secretly, my grandpa knew I was there, and he even would call my dad to bring me over early in the morning or ask him to have me spend the night before the feast, just to make sure I was there. For me, that meant more time with my grandparents, working in his garden, preserving his fruits, and helping out with household tasks. My grandma’s protective stance was out of love, but not out of strictness; I was sent to interact with them more because she couldn’t have a fancy phone herself.
As years went by, the secret was out, and I became an official part of the grand family gatherings. But shortly before my grandma’s passing, the family shared a moment of emotional catharsis. We were in the kitchen, completing the last few tasks, and grandpa quietly came in. He watched for a few moments and then wrapped his arms around my waist, a rare and tender gesture. “I can almost feel her here again,” he whispered, touching something deep within both of us. We both cried a little, and I truly miss her now.
Thanksgiving is more than just a holiday; it’s about the cherished memories, the laughter, and the love that binds us together. It’s about the little moments, the traditions, and the people who make these holidays special. For me, it’s the memory of helping grandma in the kitchen and the joy of having my grandparents by my side. Even in times of loss, the memories remain, a treasure that will forever be with us.