The year my father brought his new wife to the newly instated Thanksgiving Eve dinner with his side of the family was perhaps the drunkest I have ever been in front of relatives. I still hadn’t accepted the reality that his marriage cemented. Still, it was better than that year’s Christmas. My mother, who had recently downsized by selling our old house for a condo that wasn’t ready in time for the holidays, was temporarily living in the renovated “cabins” (i.e. old slave quarters) on a family friend’s historic plantation. Bless her sweet heart, my mother tried her best to make the atmosphere cozy, comfortable, and warm, but surrounded by the pain of history—the cabin’s and our own—and the space heaters, I could not bring myself to revel with the same spirit of Christmas past. The Christmas morning coffee cake and carols were there, but the loss was too palpable and the joy was not.
Looking back, I know now, and even knew then, that these seismic shifts in our family holiday traditions were as hard on my parents and my siblings as they were on me. Part of me blamed my brother and sister for staying away and leaving me to ride out the holidays alone, but still, I understood why they did. And I’m sure that my inability to conjure the excitement and anticipation for the new traditions that I had once held for the old ones pained my parents in unspeakable ways.
Magically, despite the significant logistical and emotional bumps in the road, in the seasons that have passed since my parents’ split, new traditions have sprung up. The days of dread at coming home for a lonely Thanksgiving or Christmas in front of the fire with one parent while harboring a gnawing guilt for leaving the other one alone are gone. Both of my parents have found significant others and ways to fill their holidays when I’m with the other.
We have perfected the schedule. This Thanksgiving, I will spend Thanksgiving Eve getting reasonably drunk with my father’s family. The following day, I will nurse my hangover by eating unreasonable amounts of turkey and green bean casserole with my mother’s family while my dad visits my stepmother’s. Christmas Eve will be spent over a beautifully prepared, nontraditional meal by my stepmother, while my mother enjoys Oysters Rockefeller and champagne with her mother. The following day, I will eat coffee cake and open presents by the rosemary bush in my mother’s condo before joining her family for more turkey and green bean casserole. And I will get twice as many presents, which any child of divorce will attest is the single best thing about post-split holidays.
