First Thanksgiving without Mom

My family came to my house for Thanksgiving again. It was nice, a low-key day spent with my dad, my brother, and Casey's girlfriend Sarah. It was also the first Thanksgiving since my mom died. They say that the first round of holidays without the lost person is the hardest. It was certainly strange; she's been in my thoughts even more so than usual lately, but I don't know if I experienced any more of an emotional dip. Grief has been odd for me. I don't know if I did a lot of my grieving during her long, extremely painful decline, or if it still hasn't totally hit me yet that she's gone forever and never coming back. I miss her and I feel weird, but it hasn't been like everyone says it's supposed to be.

The thing that bugged me the most was we messed up the turkey. We had to figure out how to recreate a number of recipes Mom made up that we've been cooking for years, but at least we had the recipe for that. I know how to cook a whole turkey and have done it three or four times now, but for some reason the turkey this time didn't cook through for a long time. We think it was because Dad transported it up from PA in an industrial cooler than kept it so cold the bottom froze, even though it was a fresh turkey. It was a small mistake and it eventually cooked through without even drying the rest out too badly, but I felt bad about it. But I couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't have happened if Mom had been there to run things.

I don't know. Maybe I'm not grieving sufficiently. Maybe I'm numb. Maybe it will explode out of the huge wall of repression keeping it back. Maybe I've done it already. I don't quite know what's going on with it.