The Little While - by Darcie D. Sims

I never tire from reading it each Thanksgiving....
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Many years ago we were faced with our first bereaved Thanksgiving. I was worried. Our infant son had died in September and no one felt much like celebrating anything, let alone gathering family together to express our gratitude. Gratitude! About what???? What on earth did we have to be thankful for?

Our little guy had died after a horrible battle with a malignant brain tumor, leaving us exhausted physically, mentally, emotionally and financially. There was little to spend on a lavish meal and I did not have the energy to even think about hosting a family gathering. But despite our unwillingness to participate in the passing of days,Thanksgiving did arrive and we did have a small family dinner. I think the turkey was dry, the mashed potatoes lumpy and I'm not sure we even had rolls. I set the table with our best crystal and china, in a weak attempt at being"festive" but the only things that sparkled during that meal were our tears.

It is a tradition in our family to have the youngest at the table say the blessing, so it fell to our five year-old daughter, Alicia, to find some words of thanksgiving. I was almost glad it wasn't my task to speak of gratitude when there simply wasn't any to be found around our table! How awful of me, a grown woman to wish such a job onto a five year-old!

Alicia refused to accept her assignment. She refused in the manner of many 5-year-olds and it became a battleground between mother and daughter, adult and child. She simply looked at me and said what all of us felt, "What's there to be thankful for this year?" We argued intensely and her refusal guaranteed the silence I dreaded.

I knew this years' celebration would not be survivable. Her stormy face told me to forgo the family blessing. We ate in grieving silence; each caught in our own web of stories, tears and sadness. About halfway through the meal, however, Alicia announced that she would say "something" at dessert.

I wasn't sure what "something" meant, but I figured dessert was something to be thankful for!As the pie was served, Allie told everyone to "hold hands like the Walton's". Slowly, awkwardly, painfully, we reached across our grief and clasped hands, forming a family circle around our table. Allie bowed her head, took a deep breath and in her 5-year-old voice brought us the light.

"Thanks God, for the little while."

In our grief we had focused on what we had lost and worried about how we would survive another day. Alicia, with the wisdom reserved only for children, understood better than any adult around that table, the gift her brother had given us and the gift for which we are forever grateful ... the little while.
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And it ALWAYS makes me shed a few tears - the good "ah-ha" tears...

Peace,
Elizabeth