Over the last several months, I’ve been on a mission to eliminate clutter from my life. I started with the most immediate source of chaos: my children’s playroom. Over the past two months, I have cleaned and organized this room at least twice. The first time was the most challenging, but I convinced the children that the task would be SO MUCH FUN, and for some reason, they believed me. Madeline plugged in her hot pink radio clock and flipped through stations until she found the local hit music station. And with Katy Perry and Maroon 5 keeping us energized, we piled old toys and forgotten playthings into piles: throw away, give away, and put away. After a couple of hours, we were done.

As I looked around the finished room, the tight knot in my chest loosened and untangled itself. I seemed to be breathing more easily, more steadily.

My office at work came next. It was on one of my administrative days – a day reserved for catching up on writing manuscript drafts, working on educational modules, returning patient calls, and wading through the accumulating pile of emails – that I realized I couldn’t just get motivated to do any of it. I couldn’t focus. So I pulled the old procrastinator’s trick: I cleaned. After an hour, my desk was clear, my printer was filled with paper, loose file folders were nestled snuggly in their proper cabinet, and the recycling bin was filled to the brim. And then I got to work. That day was one of the most productive I’d had in what felt like months. Through the process of clearing the clutter from my workspace, I had also shaken off the mental cobwebs that had me distracted and listless.

I expected to break down at some point that day, my first Thanksgiving without my father present, but I kept it together. I made those potatoes after all, the ones I wrote about here. I think it helped that I eased myself into it, buying the potatoes one day, the cream cheese on another, not making too big a fuss over the significance. They weren’t nearly as good as Dad’s, but I didn’t expect them to be.

It was an unusual Thanksgiving, not having Dad around. This was also the first Thanksgiving without my father-in-law, who died in July after an unexpected and lengthy illness. To make up for the hurt we expected to feel that day, my husband and I surrounded ourselves with our remaining family and a hodgepodge of friends. And with food, lots and lots of food.

Turns out, being surrounded by friends worked. I was distracted from feeling sad by having my dear friend, Julia, and her family at our Thanksgiving. Of course, her husband’s apple cider cocktails took the edge off and lightened the mood. Our friend Deanna fit right in, despite this being her first meal at our house. Jim and Mary, long time friends of my parents – and now of me and Sam – drove up from Orlando for the day. Sitting around the table after dinner, reminiscing and telling stories of “back when…,” made the day seem quite…normal. Like Thanksgiving should be, and like it always has been.

On this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for so many things.

I am thankful for my husband, the most patient and caring man I know. He also knows how to smoke a mean turkey.

I am thankful for my beautiful children. Without them, I would be lost.

I am thankful that I can share today’s Thanksgiving meal with our mothers, my brother, and good friends. And though I am sad my father will not be here, I am thankful that I have so many memories of him from Thanksgivings-past, memories of him the way he would want to be remembered.

I am thankful that I get to be such an intimate part of my patients’ lives as they grapple with their diagnosis of cancer. I am humbled by my patients’ grace and strength, and I feel honored to be there for them.

I am thankful for this blog, this little spot on the web that I created for myself almost four years ago. Through writing here, I am finding my voice.

I am thankful for those of you who take the time to read my blog posts. I am especially thankful for those of you who comment or reach out to me by email or social media when a post has touched you in some way. I feel reassured when you do, and sometimes, I need that reassurance to keep writing.

I am thankful for camellias, just like the one in the photo. I grew up in a house surrounded by camellias, red ones and pink ones, and we marked the holiday season by their seemingly sudden appearance.

I am thankful for my health, and for the health of my family and loved ones.

I am thankful for Twitter, for I have made some of the most wonderful friends there. Some of those friends feel more like family now.

I am thankful for this life that I am living.

I am so blessed.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, dear readers. May your day be filled with love and laughter. (And plenty of good turkey and trimmings, too.)