Well... The turkey, et al, died, but the rest of us made out well, so now what?

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Post holiday is sometimes the rocky part, sometimes the easy part.  I would like to say that has to do with a personality type, but I can't quite do that.  I have seen that change, in my life, through the aging process, but also depending on what part of the thing I was involved with and what demands were made shortly after.  If, for example, I was on the pre-season cleanup crew, the cook or one of them, or the break down crew, or just a participant, has had something to do with with post season reaction.  Whether it was one day off, then back to the grind, as on submarines, also played a part.  Being alone or being with family and friends the whole time also played a part, but not always as common thought might suggest, not always.

Yes, foolish thoughts, considerations, constantly interrupt my life.  Some threads I follow for miles, years, others go a short distance and are abandoned.  I do note, however, that even threads that are abandoned can be picked up, even years, decades, later, as if I had never left off.  Sometimes the old idea is simply updated, sometimes it leads into new area of thought.  Just a note.  This topic?  I keep reviewing it.  Not every holiday season, just one or two a year.  Why?  Ah.  Because.

This year, while living alone for the most part, and going through fits trying to increase my medication which keeps me less social on top of things, but having a fine meal and good company for the day itself, I have had no problems with the season.  Then again, if I hadn't been invited to a Thanksgiving meal I would not have known it was coming, that it happened, or that it had past.  I guess being numb and a bit lost at least doesn't double the standard troubles of life on top of it, mostly. So it's not a usual year, mostly.  Still, I got a mild hit of it.

After being invited, I did start thinking.  And then a call to my mother after the fine meal, and I did get that little melancholy hit.  It remains today, just a bit.  While there is something about missing people, it is more than that.  It is about a life lead, people known, and now gone, one way or another, places and events.  I have had holiday meals with more people than most people could imagine.  Beside having seven dads, three moms, and many family type settings, with cousins and uncles and family friends in those settings beyond what some could think possible, I have been a traveler as an adult, and traveled far and wide.  With Roman emperors and pagan kings, with peasants and at least one priest, with the rich and the truly poor, I have found celebrations with many people.  Good?  Bad?  People are just people, wrong as they might be, who do, sometimes questionable things as they believe they must.  Only kings lack mud all about them.  But all save one King, where they lack mud, they have the blood of many.  Even the one King was graced with His own blood.

It is the people I miss.  How could I know all of them?  I ask, how can I not.  And yet... missing them is not a regret.  I would not care much for myself if so many were not considered precious memories.  I continue, to this day, to add people to the roll call of Doom.  I am glad for it.  Tears simply being the price of one of the joys in life.  Through them, I get some idea of why God calls, what He wants, and who He speaks of and to when He walked and when He called others to write.  After years of cynicism, I understand why.  Because you are precious.  Now, scoot.