Thanksgiving "Traditions Can Heal"

Thanksgiving can hold heartbreak and gratitude at the same table. The traditions we cook can transform grief into something survivable — a reminder that even when life collapses, there are flavors that carry us forward. A meal can’t fix everything, but it can remind you of who you are: resilient, still standing, still capable of joy.

For me divorce wasn't just papers signed; it was traditions torn apart and rewired, old ghosts at the table, empty chairs that felt louder than conversation. When betrayal becomes part of your story, holidays can taste bitter. It’s impossible not to remember what you’ve lost when the calendar circles back to the days that once felt whole.

But food doesn’t lie. The smell of turkey in the oven, onions sweating down in butter for stuffing, pies cooling on the counter — they drag me back to gratitude whether I want to go there or not. Gratitude not for the pain, but for survival. For resilience. For the chance to sit at the table, broken maybe, but still hungry for life.

So I lean into the ritual: basting the bird, whipping potatoes until they’re clouds, folding cranberries into sauce until they burst ruby-red. The kitchen becomes therapy, one stir at a time. There’s warmth in the repetition — peeling carrots, setting the table, lighting candles. Each small act says, you are still here, you are still capable of joy.

Imagine a table glowing with golden food: turkey, gravy, stuffing, pies. Friends or family, or maybe just you, but always a plate, always a fork, always the chance to taste something comforting. Gratitude doesn’t erase heartbreak, but it does soften the edges. And sometimes that’s enough to get through the day.

My Traditional Thanksgiving Menu

• Turkey with Pan Gravy — classic, tender, golden-skinned.
• New England Oyster Stuffing with Celery and Thyme , the smell alone feels like home.
• Grand Meunier Cranberry Sauce, tart, jewel-toned, balancing the heaviness.
• The Best Mashed Potatoes, fluffy and smooth.
• Broccoli and Cheddar Casserole, comfort piled high.
• Green Bean Casserole, an American tradition comfort piled high.
• Tender and Soft Butter Dinner Rolls
• Pumpkin Swirl Cheesecake, Apple and Bourbon Pecan Pie, dessert - the last destination.

Chef’s Notes

• Don’t chase perfection — chase comfort. Slightly burnt edges on the stuffing or a lumpy gravy won’t ruin the day.
• If you’re cooking for yourself, scale it down — a turkey breast instead of the whole bird, one pie instead of three. The ritual matters more than the crowd.
• Share food if you can. A plate delivered to a neighbor or friend is as healing as eating it yourself.

Final thoughts

I may not ever feel fully whole again, but I am still strong, still open-minded, still willing to approach heartbreak with gratitude. And as I clear the plates and put away the leftovers, I find myself already leaning forward toward the next holiday — my favorite, Christmas — where hope feels a little closer, and joy flickers into view.