It feels strange to say, but I genuinely miss my former mother-in-law. It’s a sentiment that hits me particularly hard during Thanksgiving. For most of my adult life, I celebrated this holiday with my ex-husband, Jake’s family. Since my own family was too far away to visit regularly, our first Thanksgiving together took place at Jake’s childhood home.
I vividly remember that first gathering, even after two decades. Around thirty guests filled the house, arriving well before dinner was served. The kitchen overflowed with food—turkey, ham, countless pies, and trays of pickles and chocolates. The din of football games echoed from multiple TVs, while kids sprawled on the floor, fully engaged in their own activities. Everyone brought their dogs, creating a warm and lively atmosphere. I had arrived feeling lonely and somewhat out of place, but I quickly felt enveloped by the hospitality of my future mother-in-law, Linda.
The celebration stretched throughout the day, filled with neighbors, relatives, friends, and even a few strangers. The following day, we continued the festivities with slices of pie for breakfast and elaborate turkey sandwiches for lunch and dinner. There were no real-life responsibilities to attend to; we were simply together.
Thanksgiving in my family had always been different. We gathered, had a turkey dinner, and then went back to our routines after cleaning up. I had never realized what I was missing until I experienced Linda’s Thanksgiving celebrations. She made it clear that Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday and worked hard to bring everyone into the fold.
Linda showcased the best of herself during these gatherings—her warmth, openness, and love were palpable. Because I loved Jake, she embraced me as her own. An exceptional cook, she poured love into every dish, making everyone’s favorite foods on Thanksgiving and beyond. Linda was generous to a fault, often ignoring my attempts to rein in her spoiling of our son, Ethan. We spent weeks with her family each year, traveling and visiting their picturesque coastal town. Linda and I spoke frequently, discussing everything from parenting to career advice—nothing was off-limits. I loved her deeply; she truly felt like a second mother to me.
When Jake and I separated in the fall, I sent Ethan with him for Thanksgiving that year. I wanted him to experience the traditions he loved, even though I felt heartbroken. I missed everything—Ethan, Jake, and Linda—so much that I couldn’t get out of bed for three days. I texted Linda, expressing my love and gratitude for her support. To my surprise, she called me, expressing how thankful she was to have me in her life.
Sadly, that was the last genuine conversation we shared.
In the years that followed, I continued to reach out to Linda, sharing updates about Ethan, sending photos, and occasionally asking for her recipes. I would send birthday cards and flowers for Mother’s Day from both me and Ethan. I still hold a deep love for her as a wonderful grandmother to my son and as a nurturing mother figure to me.
However, the dynamics have shifted. Divorce creates ripples that affect everyone involved, and each person navigates their own path. Just because Jake and I have found a better place doesn’t mean that Linda and I will automatically reconnect. Our bond, while rooted in my marriage, stands apart and has taken on a different life of its own. She exists for me now mainly in memory.
As Thanksgiving approaches once more, I often feel a wave of sadness. I find myself feeling lost and out of place again. For nearly two decades, my Thanksgivings were spent with the Williams family, filled with warmth, laughter, and the delightful chaos of dogs. I miss the food and, above all, I miss Linda.
Yet, a piece of her still lives within me, guiding me. I now host my own Thanksgiving celebrations, filled with laughter, children, and comfort. I use Linda’s cherished recipes, filling my kitchen with the same festive spirit. My son helps make the family’s green bean casserole and the not-so-little one even bakes chocolate pecan pie. We use ovens across the neighborhood, and everyone brings along their dogs. Some aspects have changed (no football here), but the love and tradition remain.
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In summary, while I navigate the complexities of missing my former mother-in-law during the holidays, I carry her legacy forward in my own way. I’ve created a Thanksgiving filled with love and cherished traditions, ensuring that her spirit lives on in every gathering.