A Different Kind of Thanksgiving, and Somehow the Sweetest One Yet

Thanksgiving looked nothing like our usual one this year.
And honestly, it ended up being one of my favorites.

For as long as I can remember, Jason has owned the kitchen on Thanksgiving. It has always been his day. The turkey, the timing, the quiet focus, the pride on his face when every dish came out just right. His love language has always been feeding people, especially on holidays.

But this year has been heavy.
Ever since his stroke in October, our whole rhythm has shifted. Energy looks different. Capacity looks different. What we can take on as a family looks different too. And because of that, Thanksgiving was going to need to look different.

What I didn’t expect was how beautiful that shift would be.

Our kids secretly schemed behind the scenes. Not to take over, but to honor their dad and lighten the weight that had been sitting squarely on his shoulders for decades.

Nic and his wife, Brooke, took on the main dishes. Nic made turkey and ham, and Brooke introduced us to a tradition from her family’s table: dressing with sausage. I swear it might be my new favorite thing.

Savannah and her wife, Tiffany, came home and took over the kitchen for the day. They learned family favorites, asked questions, stirred pots, and laughed their way through recipes that have lived in our home for years.

One dish they were especially determined to make was our cheese pie.
It is something from Jason’s family, simple and humble but sacred to all of us. It was a staple in Jason’s family holidays and became the same for us. Watching the girls learn how to make it felt like witnessing a piece of him being carried forward, even in a season where so much feels uncertain.

And then there was our middle son, the one who lives with us and helps care for Jason when I am working. He moved through the day quietly, offering help wherever it was needed, making sure things kept flowing. He is a calm, steady presence, and we are so grateful for him.

Meanwhile, I spent most of the day in the recliner with Avery, my grandson, playing Minecraft. Not rushing. Not stressing. Not managing every little thing. Just being with him. And it felt like exactly where I was supposed to be.

It was not the Thanksgiving we used to have.
But it was warm and loving and full of gratitude in a way that surprised me.

Sometimes the holidays that look the least traditional end up being the ones that show us what our family is really made of. Not recipes. Not routines.
But love that adjusts. Love that steps in. Love that keeps showing up even when life looks nothing like it used to.

This year, Thanksgiving taught me that traditions can bend without breaking.
And that letting people love you through service is its own kind of grace.

With All the Love From My Family to Yours,

Brandy

Note: If my family is reading this, this is a love letter to you! Thank you for all that you did to make this holiday the best yet!! Dad and I love you more than you will ever know!