This past year the woman in my family who always prepared the lefse, died. She was my Father's sister, an Aunt who I loved dearly. As I mixed the potatoes and flour I saw her beautiful, smiling face and heard her endearing voice, "good girl" - she said that a lot.
I really miss her.
It isn't just for the food she made, or the afghans, mittens, and scarves that she knitted. It was the love she shared for us, my sister and I, having watched us grow up, the children of divorce - and all that that entails.
I've written previously about my parents' divorce, how it affected me and how I became a statistic growing up. My last post, however, made me really reflect on the love and support I had during that time. I have the advantage of being able to look back now and see the outpouring of love from my family. When my father was dealing with his darkest days, my Aunt was there, loving on us.
He'd bring us to her home when he had his week of custody with us over the holidays. A time when he was lost and most vulnerable. She pampered us with love and affection and tended his wounds the best she could - they'd drink beer and play Cribbage well into the night. She was always an encourager to us, and so proud of all of our accomplishments.
I'll be honest with you, one of the biggest challenges I have with the Christian MGTOW (men going their own way) movement is that in essence it says to me: "You are not worth it." Which necessarily means my children aren't worth it. Call it solipsism, I won't deny it. I know my father dealt with a lot of pain in his life with his divorce. I know he had to call on his family to help him through it.
On this Thanksgiving Day, I give thanks to my Dad. He endured that which men fear, and I am so grateful. And I give thanks to his sister, my treasured Aunt who loved him through it, whose heart broke for him, my Mother, and for us, their children. She remained a rock through it all and never gave up on loving us.
In Loving Memory of my dear Aunt Loretta.