The Legacy - Part 16

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  Sixty-five

By November, the weather turns cold and I find myself having to readjust to the frigid winter of North Carolina after being spoiled for years by the mildness of Italy. I miss our home in Treviso, and I long for our family to be whole again soon so we can go back. But I also accept that for now, this is home.

Thanksgiving is in a couple of weeks, but it is hard to get in the spirit of the holidays. We recognize all we have and are grateful, but without Phillip with us, the holidays just can't be the same and the sadness lingers.

Occasionally I look through the dresser drawers at Phillip's things, overwhelmed by his absence. Sometimes I stare at his photo and hug his clothes to me, trying to find comfort, desperately wanting to hold him in my arms. I long to feel his small arms around my neck and ache to have him give me one of his affectionate kisses that always brightens my day. Adagio sits with me during these times and we talk about our son and some of the things he does to make us laugh or smile. Though the ache is always there, having each other to lean on helps us cope with Phillip's absence.

With practice, I have become very good at being cheerful around Ingo. We've even managed to get him excited about the upcoming holiday, which helps to lift our own spirits a little more. Though it's an American holiday, I've always insisted that we celebrate Thanksgiving, and everyone in our family enjoys it. The boys always look forward to me making lots of treats, some of them American and some Italian. And except for Phillip's absence, this year will be no different. After all, we still have much to be grateful for.

 * * * 

On the Monday before Thanksgiving, Adagio and I take the whole family out to dinner. Velma and Ted dine with us, as well as my uncle and aunt. We all meet at the restaurant and enjoy a wonderful evening together. I am experiencing a little fatigue, but it doesn't keep me from enjoying myself. I love listening to Pete's stories about his childhood with my mother and the things they did together. He carries a photograph of the two of them as teenagers in his wallet.

Adagio and Jessica examined the photo and comment on how much I favor my mother. Since I've never seen a picture of my mother when she was younger until tonight, I am also surprised at the resemblance.

"She was very pretty," I say, handing the photo back to Pete.

"She was a looker in her younger days," Pete agrees, rubbing his bearded chin. "Even the years of drinking didn't diminish her looks like with most alcoholics."

I silently agree. Most of the alcoholics I've seen look worn and much older than they are. But Geneva Matthews never looked a day over thirty.

"Yeah, she was definitely beautiful," Pete says, looking at the photo once more before returning it to his wallet.

"Like mother, like daughter," Adagio whispers, smiling lovingly at me. I smile back, squeezing his hand under the table. I turn my attention back to Pete as he tells us more about his and Geneva's experiences growing up. Though he doesn't go into much detail because of Ingo being present, he says it was hard growing up with two alcoholic parents. Their childhood was difficult, but they handled things the best they could.

I can definitely relate and understand. I knew alcoholism was the reason my grandparents died so young, and it saddens me that the pattern continued through my own mother, as well as Velma's. But I'm also grateful Velma and I have broken the pattern. We chose a better path. And I hope every day for the strength to stay on that path.

Somehow the conversation steers clear of Gladys and her name is never mentioned, which is fine with everyone. The last thing we want is to add more gloom to the sadness already present. It has truly turned out to be a great evening, one that I will always treasure.

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