45 Years Ago This Thanksgiving…
By: Linda Moran
Tags: Memories, Alcoholism, Death And Dying, Love, Thanksgiving

45 Years Ago This Thanksgiving…

…and 45 years we’ve been together…

I‘m the only one still alive in this picture — the photographer.

For the last 44 years, the day before Thanksgiving has been very tough, making the rest of the holiday season difficult. In 1975 I had Wednesday off from the school district — that has never happened since…I was able to fly to Ohio a day early for Thanksgiving vacation. I had dinner with my dad, and on Wednesday my mom and I were out shopping and stopped for lunch — at the same restaurant my dad was eating lunch. We joked around and Dad went back to work. Two hours later he had a massive heart attack at the office and died. He was 48.

This Thanksgiving he will have been gone for 45 years. This is also the 45th Thanksgiving my husband and I have spent together. He is in hospice for renal failure. This is probably our last time together.

So it will be a quiet day, just the two of us, eating what we call “snacky bits” — those wonderful, “bad for us” goodies that we only allow ourselves once or twice a year: stuffed mushrooms, clams casino, sausage balls — you get the idea. This year will be particularly difficult. When the “45” connection hit me earlier, I started what will no doubt be a bunch of crying jags over the coming days.

The day before Thanksgiving is always filled with him. Some years it’s easier than others. He went so quickly, but I had been able to see him before he died. My dad would have been 93. He died at 48 years of age from a massive coronary — lifestyle issues of alcoholism. He missed my wedding, missed knowing my sweetie, missed seeing me get my masters, missed having the earlier video games to play (he would have loved Pong), missed more traveling. Somewhere I have a picture of him in his Nehru jacket — one of my favorites. It’s time to have some pics out that I can see on a regular basis. Now I have to find the Hawaii pictures. Eugene Robert Lemke — still missed to this day — I’m about the only one left who remembers.

The Nehru jacket — I took the picture but can’t seem to remember where.

Merchant Marines at the tender age of 16, WWII

Merchant Marines, end of the war — now I can see I did — and do — look like him.

September 1927 married Betty Jones of Brewster, NY

Our house in Stratford, NJ — he was quite the handy-man

Back yard in Stratford with the with the then “new idea” of outdoor cooking — it’s still there and in use.

Favorite picture of my dad

Dad and me at the Honolulu Airport after one of their visits

Even as I remember him fondly and so young, he was an alcoholic. It carried through the family to my mother and brother. I rarely drink, but food is my addiction — overweight for decades. But I remember asking him a question growing up and when I only wanted an answer, he would give me book and page. I remember him sneaking out of the house in Vermont early so he could pick me up at the Montreal airport by himself and we could have lunch on the way home. We read the same books, so birthday and Christmas presents were easily shared. This is probably an area I should pursue more — the good and the bad times when they should have gotten divorced, the way he showed me he loved me…but that’s for another article. It gets painful.