Thanksgiving and Breast Cancer: When Gratitude is Hard

I spent so much time in her home that I can tell you every dish that my friend’s mom, Pam, would put on her holiday table. She was American, so some of her recipes were a bit weird but (with the exception of fruit and marshmallows in Jell-O molds) they were also delicious and it was an amazing thing to be part of the traditions of two families. Also, two (or sometimes 3 because she was a Yanky) Thanksgivings?! Yes please!

Pam had a laugh like tinkling crystal that slipped through her teeth while she covered her million watt smile with spread fingers, trying not to overly-encourage our borderline humour while still obviously delighting in our antics. She welcomed me into her home with open arms at all hours of the day and night and walked me through many of the trials of youth with grace, understanding and warmth.

She was my Bonus Mom and holiday memories of Pam working in her kitchen while wearing her worn-out blue bathrobe are mixed in amongst the very favourites of my life, but the year that the C-word came back with a vengeance after Pam had previously beaten breast cancer was different.

Now an adult with a child of my own and another on the way, I came home and visited Pam on Thanksgiving weekend, feeling more devastated by and outraged at the injustice of breast cancer than filled with the gratitude and joy of Thanksgiving.

Pam looked just as you might expect but are never prepared for when seeing someone you love who is dying from cancer, but her inextinguishable smile was still ready and eager.

We talked about our families, laughed over our shared history and eventually got around to the cancer. Although I had predetermined not to bring my sadness, grief and overwhelming lack of joy into her home on Thanksgiving weekend, I failed miserably at leaving my broken heart on the doorstep and it poured out of me and onto sweet Pam in floods.

But, true to character, Pam was not angry, resentful, self-pitying or joyless. Instead, she gently reminded me that we need to find gratitude in even the worst circumstance and spoke of how thankful she was to have lived a life packed with millions of beautiful moments. She saw her faith-soaked past as a gift that remained untouched by the breast cancer that was now stealing her future.

Pam made a conscious decision to give thanks to God for her blessings every day and at every opportunity, which meant that she would forever be remembered by all who knew her as a bright light whose gift for gratitude lit up every person she touched, even long after she was gone.

That was the last Thanksgiving we had with our beloved Pam, and while I think of her often and always, it’s when I feel particularly short on thankfulness that her example lights my world back up, just like her smile did while she was alive. I’m reminded that while we must live our lives with honest recognition of the pain, injustice, hypocrisy and loss of this world, there is still much to be grateful for even on the darkest days.

Sometimes thanksgiving pours out of us easily and sometimes it requires an intentional effort, but this year Pam’s example is reminding me that I need to choose gratitude no matter how I feel or what storm I’m walking through.

As my little family gathers around our table with the people we love this weekend, it’s my intention to move in close to the small and precious things of life that renew thanksgiving in me; to take my eyes off of my circumstances and shift them to my blessings.

If this Thanksgiving is a hard one for you – whether because of illness, loss, loneliness, the pain of your past, the weariness of this world or anything else – my hope is that Pam’s example would lead you too.

May you soak your heavy heart in intentional gratitude so that even in this difficult season you would be encouraged by the beauty of everyday gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

by Refraction

Thanksgiving and Breast Cancer: When Gratitude is Hard

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