Family … we loved, we laughed, we celebrated. Milestones, accomplishments, birthday, holidays; you were always there. Present and embracing, encouraging and loving, filling every room with your laughter, your hugs, your stories.

Then November 28, 2020 came … and time stopped. Life forever changed.

Yet your unconditional love has carried me through these five years; and I know it will continue to carry me in all the days ahead.

Gary Alan Woodward … My forever love … Never to be forgotten.

Thanksgiving is here again. For many, it will be their first celebration with a vacant place at the dinner table. For some of us who lost a cherished loved one to COVID-19, it might be the sixth such Thanksgiving. That’s the case for me, another celebration without my partner, Jody.

I remember that when Thanksgiving 2020 approached, there was a lull in the ongoing global pandemic that led many Americans to head home for traditional family gatherings, if only as a respite from the isolation they had been experiencing throughout the year.

At that time, there was an effort called “The Empty Chair” which served to remind people in the U. S. that many would be filled with a sense of grief at their holiday celebrations. I remember during dinner at my sister’s home we continued to set a place for Jody at the table. It was intended to remind us of his absence. As we shared our meal, that solitary plate provoked memories of Thanksgivings past with Jody as we shared our favorite Jody stories.

In recent years, we have continued to remember Jody as we enjoy our family time together. A few weeks ago, I stumbled across a clip of an old Bob Hope holiday program. Hope always ended his shows with his trademark song, “Thanks for the Memory.” It made me realize that while the dish on the table may be empty, the chair is full of memories of a life well lived.

And so, I share a snippet of the lyrics from the conclusion of the song to keep in your heart as you celebrate this Thanksgiving.

Strictly entre nous,
Darling, how are you?
And how are all
Those little dreams
That never did come true?
Awfully glad I met you,
Cheerio and toodle-loo
Thank you,
Thank you so much.

Thanks for the memory (1938)
 Ralph Rainger (composer)
 Leo Robin (lyricist)

They say time heals, but today my heart still feels the ache. Fifty years ago today, Gary and I said “I Do”, promising our unconditional love for the rest of our lives. The memories of his love have carried me forward every single day; and they will continue to guide me in all the days ahead. Gary is my Forever Love. November 22, 1975 we became One. Miss you Babe … Jacque

My brother died in the beginning of the Pandemic. His facility was closed the day after he was admitted so I could never visit him and we could not have a funeral and wake. If we did, I would have recited the old and traditional Irish and Scottish poem and song — “Parting Glass”. I have heard this at a few funerals and wakes I attended. There is a part that says “Of all the harm that e’re I’ve done alas it was to none but me”– that really says it all about my brother. He was such a kind and gentle soul who would never hurt a fly. He was very special as the world is too full of people who harm others. He was a man of honor and integrity. This poem expresses the sorrow of parting and I know that Johnny would have not wanted me to be so full of sorrow for so long. It is easier said than done with such a brother.

I love this more modern rendition of this poem:
“ I ask you to remember me;
and when you sit and stories tell,
I’ll be with you and help recall;

So fill to me the parting glass,
God bless and joy be with you all”.

Happy Thanksgiving Johnny. I miss you but very grateful for the years we had together.

Our family always loved to celebrate the holidays, especially Mike. He enjoyed each one of them from Thanksgiving through the Christmas season and ending with the celebration of another New Year. When COVID-19 invaded our home, it came during this most happy time of year. On November 20, 2020, Mike started to show the first symptoms of the virus. One week later, on Thanksgiving night, he was admitted to the ICU. That was the night our family’s lives changed forever. The doctor said he didn’t think Mike would make it through the night, but he did. I prayed every day that he would come back home to us.

Our oldest son insisted that we put up our Christmas tree, so Dad could enjoy it when he came back home. But my sweetheart never made it back home to us, and the holidays would never be the same from then on. Thanksgiving Day would forever be the day the ambulance with its siren blaring sped through the streets, taking Mike away from all those he loved and all of us who loved him. How could our family ever feel thankful or grateful again on this day? As each year passed, we continued to gather and express our blessings and all that we were thankful for, but the words felt hollow. Grief was the unwelcome guest at our dinner table, occupying the seat where Mike should have been telling his stories, discussing football, laughing and enjoying the meal.

This year, our family will reach a “milestone”. December 16, 2025, will mark the 5th anniversary of Mike’s transition from this world to where his spirit lives on. As so many of us know who have lost our loved ones to the virus, this milestone year can hit especially hard.

I often say to people who never met my husband, I wish you could have met Mike. You would have instantly made a new friend. You would have met someone who cared about how you were doing, how your family was doing, and who always made time for others. He was someone who loved deeply and forgave freely. He was like a little kid at times, doing the silliest things to make his grandkids laugh by making “googly eyes” or changing the words to the song “Holly Jolly Christmas” to hully gully Christmas. Mike, who gave the best bear hugs, who saw the glass half full most of the time. The man who prayed for the safety of his family every day, who saw the best in people and never let life get him down, even on those occasions when it should have. Mike, never complained even when he had partial vision loss and other physical ailments. And, especially, the man who while in the hospital made friends with his nurses and asked them if there was anything they would like him to pray for them. Even, with the virus, he kept praying until those days when he couldn’t.

As I drove to work this morning, I started to reflect about this coming Thanksgiving Day. I thought about my Michael. We were blessed to be married for almost 49 years. Through the good days and some bad days, he was my strength, my best friend, my cheerleader, my companion, my soulmate, my shoulder to cry on and my lover. Mike brought joy to my life and showed me the meaning of unconditional love. I began to smile, even though I know that Thanksgiving Day won’t ever be the same again. I knew there could never be a more appropriate day to give thanks and be grateful for the legacy he left us. You left our home that day, but you will never leave our hearts. And for who he was to us and all who knew and loved him, we are grateful and thankful every day of the year.