November 27, 1991

Today is the day, 18 years ago, that Mother died. Really, her spirit had died six years prior with the death of my Father, and today was when her body left us too.

It was only an hour or two after her death that a neighbor came to my door with cucumber sandwiches. A platter of cucumber sandwiches, precisely cut circles of white bread to match the circles of cucumbers, smeared with a dab of cream cheese, and garnished with sprigs of parsley.

Then the hashbrown casserole came. And so it went, the bounty of sharing and love appeared at our door.

Gestures that were filled with giving during a holiday celebrating thankfulness.

It was Thanksgiving for my Mother.