At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.
For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them.
— We Remember Them, by Sylvan Kamens & Rabbi Jack Riemer
The night before Thanksgiving was always a big deal for my family when I was younger. It was a late night with my mom, my sister, and me making the main dishes and desserts at my grandma’s house, while other family members brought over their dishes and sides for a big family gathering on the holiday. It was always my job or one of my other cousins to supervise the turkey in the oven and make one side dish. My sister had to master green bean casserole, while I made devilled eggs for Grandma’s potato salad. Over time, my sister would watch my grandma make the mac and cheese, and I would record every recipe my grandma, mom, and sister made in a book. I’d eventually try to veganize everything when I became vegetarian and then vegan and add them to the mix as well.
This past Thanksgiving was the first one after my grandma passed this year. I only ever liked Thanksgiving because I got to cook and take pointers from my favorite chef. Tips on how to roast veggies outdoors, how to keep food warm when transporting it, how to keep a large kitchen organized and efficient during large meals with multiple things getting made and served at the same time, and how to make the best tasting meals from the heart all came from my grandma who had spent years cooking in large kitchens, catering events, and cooking for large family gatherings. It was hard for every member of my family to continue celebrating without my grandma there. She was such an integral part of Thanksgiving, and it was just another reminder that nothing will ever be the same without her, and that we will no longer get to spend holidays together with all the people that we love like we used to.
I’m glad that we spent the last few years of my grandma’s life getting together and reconnecting with different family members before she passed, though. We were able to strengthen bonds and keep some of those traditions alive in new ways. The most important thing was having the memories of friends and family getting together while my grandma was alive, and being able to reminisce on them with people who were there when they happened.
You get glimpses of time past, shared with others who knew and loved your loved one, too. The holidays without loved ones who have now passed on are difficult because you never forget them, nor do you want to forget. It hurts because they’re no longer there, but you are glad that you experienced life with them while they were. They exist in every tradition, old stories, past jokes, and in the list of ingredients layered in the cherry cheesecake. They carry on in the one-pot campfire chili beans you make only while camping, and they live forever in the baked macaroni and cheese. You get to keep your loved ones alive forever in your favorite dishes and in these recorded moments in time when you bring them up again.
The holidays are hard after a recent loss of a loved one. You have to acknowledge the pain of their absence, but you are left with the comfort of their memory and the reality of carrying the love you had for them, and they had for you, forward. You’re left to reflect on the quiet ache left by an empty chair at the table, but memories can provide solace even as they bring tears. The pain is real, but you can still honor the memories and the love that remains.