Thanksgiving in New Beginnings

I suppose Thanksgiving 2015 was a success. It’s weird that last Thursday was the first Thanksgiving without my dad. I think about the times these past few years I had to drive down to Eastman and spend it with my him in his nasty, garbage house. It always felt like an exercise in emotional gymnastics, planning each day, focusing my thoughts so I wouldn’t spend the entire week repulsed.

To explain, I’ve talked about how my dad had a mild hoarding problem. His problem wasn’t as severe as it is in those TV shows, but it was still bad enough to be considered a problem. I like being in places that are neat and clean, so while I loved my father spending my Thanksgiving and Christmas vacation days with him felt more like a chore in addition to work rather than a reprieve from it. As soon as I walked in the door from the carport to the kitchen, I would take long strides on the balls of my feet to get through the kitchen as quickly as possible and make as little contact with the floor as I could. Of course, I’d repeat the process in reverse whenever I left the house. Anyways, that room was so packed full of garbage, I didn’t even want to look at it. There’s something about a room where food should be prepared being gross that really unsettles me. I’d get to the hall, where I could resume my normal gait. Yes the floor was usually strewn with trash, paper scraps, bits of cat litter, and such, but since it wasn’t the kitchen, I was more tolerable. At that point, I’d focus on adjusting to the odor. After a few minutes, I’d be used to it. The room I stayed in wasn’t as bad as the rest of the house. It had a couch that still had so much of his junk piled on it, but half of it had enough space for me to sit and even put my legs up.

My dad didn’t like to use electricity, so he would barely use the heat. Exacerbating the problem, one of the windows in my room had a broken pane, which was taped up, so the room was always chilly during the late fall and winter months. I’d spend most of my time in that room, bundled up in my clothes and a blanket with a space heater I brought with me. Thankfully, his internet service was just fast enough for me to enjoy Netflix or Hulu, so I could disconnect from my actual environment while I was there.

I’d also go outside and sit with the cats for a little bit, or go down to the high school track and do my workout. Showering afterwards was always difficult, since I’d have to use my dad’s bathroom. It was as bad as the kitchen. The toilet bowl itself should have been classified as an environmental disaster. The shower was also due for good cleaning. Similar to the kitchen, something about cleaning myself in a dirty bathroom disturbs me. I would shower maybe twice while I during my visit, once after each of my workouts.

Regarding meals, thankfully, my dad lived next my aunt and uncle, his brother-in-law and sister-in-law. They’d take care of him and, by extension, me. We’d be invited over for the Thanksgiving day meal as well as leftovers as well as my aunt’s pre-Thanksgiving day meal in which she cooked a bunch of food to make room in the refrigerator for leftovers. Aside from their charity, I was on my own. I’d usually stock up on bananas and apples from the local grocer, or give my customer patronage to one of the nearby fast food restaurants. I’d usually sit outside with the cats while I replenished my calories. I never had to actually eat in Dad’s house; I would have never been able to keep it down.

This Thanksgiving was the first one in a long time I didn’t have to contend with my dad’s hoarding. I went with my sister, her husband, and their kids down to Orlando. We rented a house, visited Universal Studios, and had Thanksgiving dinner with her husband’s family. The house was nice and most importantly, clean. I got to sleep in a clean, warm bedroom, eat in a clean kitchen, and do my business in a clean bathroom.

The theme park was fun. However, I my sister and her family aren’t my ideal company for visiting a theme park. Specifically, they’re roller coaster haters. They like the 3D rides, which I admit were really neat, especially since this was my first time experiencing them, but they won’t ride actual roller coasters. Thank goodness my brother-in-law’s niece, nephew, and youngest son were there, so was able to indulge my love of real speed and actual heights. I also love the vertigo sensation I get when falling asleep after I return home.

The only ride I didn’t get to ride that I wanted to was the Hollywood Rocket. I hope I get to ride it next time. I did get to ride the Spiderman, Harry Potter, Transformers, and Mummy rides along with the Dr. Doom and Harry Potter Dragon Challenge roller coasters. I think the Spiderman ride might have been my favorite of the 3D rides, but I may just feel that way because that was the first such ride I ever rode, so it made the biggest impression. I thought the Harry Potter 3D ride was good, but the line was so long. The Dragon Challenge was my favorite real life roller coaster, but I suspect that ride will be usurped by the Hollywood Rocket should I ever get to ride it.

As I said just a couple of paragraphs ago, the visit was fun. It was also depressing. To be specific, I think about how many previous Thanksgivings were not enjoyable at all because of my Dad’s condition. I miss him, obviously, but I don’t miss having to witness him succumb to his mental and emotional illness. In the ten years between my mom’s death and my dad’s death, I think only the first two holiday seasons were decent. After my dad’s brain injury, every Thanksgiving and Christmas was just a ring side seat to watch my dad spiral into depression. It’s maddening to realize that it didn’t have to be that way. He could have gotten help. He could have made a recovery. He could have given us ten years of fond memories instead of a decade of grief because he thought we was required to be miserable. I hope this Thanksgiving marks the reversal of that trend.