The circumstances and events during the Thanksgiving holidays of 2021 and 2022 were traumatic for our family. 2021 was at the front end of the journey, just under three months after your diagnosis, and early in the chemotherapy treatments. You were struggling with pain and taking all kinds of medications and medical marijuana; and the side effects of the pain meds and chemo drugs were severe. Right when we were ready to sit down to eat our Thanksgiving meal, you collapsed, and your blood pressure was dangerously low, so we ended up going to the emergency room and being admitted to the hospital.
2022 was at the end of the journey after you had decided to stop doing conventional treatments. You had been in the hospital with severe pain a couple of weeks earlier and the oncologists told us that even though the latest scans were not showing visible signs, the disease progression appeared to be increasing rapidly at a microscopic level; and we should transfer you over to hospice and focus on comfort care. You spent several days in the in-patient hospice unit trying to get your pain under control with the goal of going home to spend your last days in the comfortable surroundings of the farm, family, and animals.
We did get to go home on 11/14/2022, and the next 10 days there were rough. You started getting confused and exhibited some irrational and erratic behavior along with severe restlessness and anxiousness. By Thanksgiving Day, while you were able to sit with us at the table for our meal, you quickly became worse; and later in the middle of the night, we had to call the hospice nurse to come out to check on you. She said that it appeared you had what they call “terminal restlessness" and it would be best if we transported you back to the in-patient hospice unit. So, later that morning they took you back in an ambulance, and we began your 10-day vigil to your last breath on 12/5/2022.
So, the last two Thanksgivings at the farm hold some intense and traumatic memories! It was Hailey’s idea to have a change of venue for this first family Thanksgiving without you. Thanks to Davis’s family, we had the use of their amazing house at Telluride, CO perched at an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet with a beautiful view of the rugged mountains and the picturesque towns of Telluride and Mountain Village, Colorado. It is ironic that our last family trip with you was in the San Juan Islands off the northwestern tip of Washington state and now our first family gathering a year later without you is in the San Juan Mountains in southwestern Colorado.
Getting to Telluride in late November can be an adventure with unpredictable early winter mountain weather. The 6-plus hour drive from Denver traverses several high passes in the nearby ski resorts area; and the Glenwood Canyon offers a long descent through sheer rocky faces toward the transitional city of Grand Junction, between the Front Range and the San Juan Mountains of the Colorado Rockies. A snowstorm was forecasted around the time of our arrival, but fortunately, we were all able to make it safely before the snow. The next day or so we got a good 7-8" of fresh snowfall and it turned everything from bare rock and earth to a classic Rocky Mountain wintertime scene.
The bright spot of this gathering was getting to meet our precious little Aldo! The news of his impending arrival a few weeks after you left us brought a measure of happy excitement in the midst of sadness. His birth in October softened the blow of the first year without you. And now as we are all gathered together just before the one-year anniversary, Aldo has melted our hearts with joy and happiness, partially filling the vacuum of your absence.
Each of us eagerly took turns holding little Aldo, and especially treasured the “sleeping baby on your chest” times, and we were smitten by his repertoire of cute baby expressions and sounds: serious stares, furrowed-brow grimaces, grunts, and a full range of “coos”, “gurgles”, and heart-melting smiles (cautious/shy,
sweet loving recognition, tickle spot, and even some comical gas smiles). While Aldo was definitely the center of attention, we felt your presence there with us, and every once in a while, I was overwhelmed with bittersweet emotion and tears.
We decided to deviate from traditional Thanksgiving fare of turkey and dressing, partly out of convenience and logistics of unfamiliar grocery stores and kitchen equipment; and partly due to powerful associations to the events of the last two times we prepared that meal. So, we made ham instead, along with mashed potatoes and green beans. Hailey made a delicious kale salad and Gage made a savory carrot soufflé. While it was not possible to bring our traditional “gran Hall starter” for bread, I made some super soft sourdough rolls that were a nice addition. The meal was, by all accounts, “Normal” by Hall family standards. It was a beautiful medley of colors, smells, and tastes complemented with Prosecco and completed with chess pie and pumpkin pie for dessert.
Predictions of a second winter storm in the San Juan mountains complicated our departure, and we made a tough decision to leave a day early to try to make the drive back to Denver ahead of the storm. It was already snowing when we loaded up the rental car and said our goodbyes. We made it down without incident from the lofty perch at Mountain Village and descended to lower elevations over to Grand Junction. As we climbed between Glenwood Canyon and Vail Pass, the temperature dropped, and the conditions started deteriorating. The last 30 miles up to Vail Pass and the next 30 miles after the pass were a white knuckle crawl at 20-30 mph. Snow and ice covered the road and all we could do was try to stay in the tracks of the car in front of us while keeping a safe distance. To add to the drama, Sydney’s need to go to the bathroom became urgent and we had to get off the interstate to go to a gas station which turned out to be closed so she had to go outside behind the building where they were doing some construction.
After that, we got back on the highway and inched along for what seemed like an interminable time until we finally came out of the storm area. By the time we crested Loveland Pass the roads were relatively clear for the long steep descent down to Denver. All in all, the trip took about 2 hours longer than expected due to that 60-mile stretch of wintry conditions.
In hindsight, I believe driving through that storm and emerging safely on the other side is a reflection of our family’s grief. In a way, this holiday season which falls at the one-year anniversary of losing you is like the storm. There is still pain and sadness which wells up and bites the heart like Arctic cold air; and there are times of anxious uncertainty and lack of control like driving in a blowing snowstorm on icy roads. But being all together with little Aldo provided a storm-bursting measure of warmth, comfort, and hope now and for the future like a roaring crackling fire in the fireplace. Also, as we finally emerged from the white-knuckle driving conditions on that trip back to Denver, it occurred to me that we are also breaking through to the other side of our grief.
And so, this Thanksgiving of 2023 is a milestone of duality. On the one hand, it represents the last of the major holidays in the first year without you; and on the other, it provides a forward-looking and life-affirming “reboot" with a new member of the family. That is something to be thankful for!
Comments