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Well, we blinked. And already it is November.
November. The month in which the leaves fall. The month in which the days shorten and darkness sets in before the 5 p.m. news.
November. The time when we are tasked with the responsibility of making sure each and every decoration is hung just right, and with making sure every cookie is baked perfectly. With finding a gift for everyone on our list and hoping it is not one they want to return.
We blinked. And already it is November.
The Halloween candy is just about gone. Christmas is right around the corner.
Porches have replaced their cornstalks and pumpkins for tinsel and inflatable snowmen.
Towns are preparing for upcoming festivities ... tree lightings, nutcrackers and parades.
Churches and organizations collect for the underprivileged, and Santas ring bells on every other street corner.
Mariah Carey is singing about all she wants for Christmas.
And, while we sip our hot chocolate with marshmallows under a cozy blanket beside the fireplace and take in the aromas of peppermint and cinnamon from the candle warmer, there is something that we forgot.
Somewhere between the online shopping carts and the rolls of wrapping paper, between the name tags and bows, the tangled lights with that one stubborn bulb that refuses to shine …
Somewhere between searching for the perfect Christmas card with just the right wording, or watching "It's a Wonderful Life" and "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" for what is the 100th time -- we forgot something.
Thanksgiving.
The holiday that seldom receives the attention it deserves. The one placed quietly between the costumes and candy and the presents and debt.
We blinked. And already it is November.
But now is the time when we must pause making those gingerbread houses, refrain from crafting the wreath and set aside the shopping plans for Black Friday, and look up -- take notice, and don't blink.
Because people will be gathering, around tables and around memories.
This year, my thoughts on gratitude reach a little deeper, not only for what our hands hold today, but for the love that filled our lives and shaped our hearts ... once upon a time.
We often talk about being thankful.
It's the theme of television specials, the script of holiday movies and the tradition around countless kitchen tables every fourth Thursday in November.
And one by one, voices rise to name their blessings: Family, health, work, a roof overhead, food on the table.
And yes -- all of those things matter greatly.
But perhaps this November, we might pause to honor something else.
Something we don't always remember to say when we bow our heads and count our blessings.
We need to be thankful not only for what we have, but for what we had.
Grateful for who is sitting beside us and appreciative for the ones who used to.
For the loved ones whose laughter once echoed through our homes.
For the pets whose paws once padded across our floors.
For friends whose voices now live only in our memory.
I am thankful for my grandparents, who loved each other for a lifetime.
You see, I cannot separate the two. To talk about either is to talk about both.
Married 55 years, bound by a love that began long before vows were spoken.
Remember, he was selling his family's horseradish in his wagon when he stopped to hold the ladder for a young girl washing windows for her mother.
He would ride to the school dance on his bicycle just to ensure her date got her home safely.
He visited her grave every single day. Despite weather. Despite illness. Through everything.
Until he could be with her again.
That kind of love is rare.
And I am grateful beyond any words to have been part of their story.
I am thankful for my dogs, Mia and Shayley. They gave me 13 years of loyalty. Thirteen years of unconditional love.
During their last days, they somehow found the strength to stand and greet me at the door. Each and every time.
And although their bodies eventually gave out, when Shayley could no longer lay down and Mia could no longer stand, their tails would still wag. Until the very end.
When they died, I swore I would never get another dog.
That promise to myself lasted about six months.
They taught me loyalty. They taught me there is nothing greater than having a dog to come home to.
I am thankful for my friend, Donna.
She was the kind of person who remembered your birthday and your favorite song.
But she died too young. Cancer doesn't care how kind you are or how old you are.
But she left behind her laughter. And playlists -- and a reminder to call people back.
I am thankful she wanted me as her friend.
Sometimes, that little six-letter word? Well, it can be extremely difficult to find.
I am thankful for my dad.
Ever since I can remember he called me JuJu.
Only now, there is no one left to say those words to me.
Despite our never having much time to spend with one another, it was in those infrequent moments that he made me feel like I was somebody important.
War changed him.
And yet, he continued to love me the best way he knew how. And it was good enough.
And it is hard when at times you don't really feel important to anyone anymore.
We all carry these people. These pets. These pieces of our past.
Even though they are no longer here, we need to continue to be grateful that they were.
It matters.
So, this Thanksgiving, when you bow your head or raise your glass, remember them.
Say their names.
Tell their stories.
Laugh at their jokes.
And cry if you need to.
Because grief is love with nowhere to go. And gratitude is what gives that love a home.
This Thanksgiving … let us be mosaics.
Made of moments.
Of people.
Of pets.
Of love and loss.
And everything in between.
And while we honor what we had, let us not forget tradition and be thankful for what we have.
Even the little things are all right to mention. They are what makes everyone unique.
I am thankful for Gus's Goodies cake.
For puppies, coffee and 1970s music. I am thankful for the ones who help us with life's problems, even when they carry burdens of their own.
And more than anything, I am grateful for my children ... who remind me daily why I've continued to live.
Grateful for my grandson ... whose inner and outer beauty is like nothing else I have ever known. He can make me cry just by looking at him.
I'm thankful for my mom and my stepdad ... the only people out of eight billion who have faithfully remained by my side through every problem, every struggle, all of the difficulties since I came into their lives.
And I am thankful for you, my readers ... who come to this little corner of the newspaper every week to read whatever it is I feel like saying, even though it isn't anything special.
So, let us be thankful for what we have. And let us be thankful for what we had.
For the time which we were given.
For the moments that shaped us, the traditions that carried us and the people who loved us into becoming who we are.
That, I believe, is something worth celebrating.
Happy Thanksgiving.
(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)