I can still easily remember how difficult the first Thanksgiving after my husband died was. When you feel like you have nothing to be thankful for, having to celebrate Thanksgiving sucks, plain and simple.

“I can’t believe Daddy will be gone a month on Thanksgiving,” our seven-year-old daughter said the weekend before the holiday. I had realized that Thanksgiving would land on the first “monthiversary” since my husband died, but hadn’t expected our daughter to remember the date. She could be so perceptive at times, usually when I least wanted her to be.

The year before, the three of us had spent a fun few days right before Thanksgiving at Great Wolf Lodge, an indoor water park and resort. Before my husband died, I had told my daughter that we would go again this year, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the same place. I didn’t want to break my promise, so proposed instead that we go to Camelback, another huge indoor water park, and invited close friends to join us. I thought we wouldn’t feel his absence so strongly if we went to a different place and were also distracted by our friends.

My instincts were right. My daughter had a great time exploring Camelback and hanging out with her friend. In particular, they loved playing games at the arcade and watching people fall while on the surfing simulator. A few of the water slides were so scary that for a few seconds I would forget about my husband’s death and instead think of my impending death. The short trip was a good distraction, and it also felt good to go somewhere where no one knew our situation. Living in a small town can feel like living in a fishbowl, where everywhere I go I feel like people are looking at me and thinking, “There’s that poor widow.”

We got home from Camelback on Thanksgiving morning, which didn’t leave much time for preparing a multi-course dinner. We didn’t have a tradition of seeing my mother and father-in-law for the holiday, even though they live nearby, because for many years we would go somewhere warm that week and then celebrate Thanksgiving belatedly with my family.

This year though, spending Thanksgiving itself with my in-laws, who were also deeply grieving, made a lot of sense, but I couldn’t manage the stress of planning and cooking a big meal. So I invited them over for a non-traditional dinner of takeout Chinese food and a store-bought cheesecake. My only planning was to choose the different Chinese entrees we would share. I didn’t cook a thing, so it was perfect. Since my in-laws are not particularly talkative, it was a short and sweet meal.

On Friday, we then went to my parents’ house, who live just a half hour away, to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner with my sister’s family and them. My dad always cooks the turkey and mashed potatoes, while my sister and I bring the sides. I always make the same side dishes so it’s easy and low-stress. And my daughter loves to play with her younger cousins. Hearing them laugh and squeal while running around the house made me happy, and getting to spend time with my parents and sister was helpful.

All in all, Thanksgiving didn’t suck. It wasn’t the most amazing time, but I got through it and even had some moments of fun and happiness, while my daughter seemed genuinely to have a great time. In retrospect, I realized there were a few things we did inadvertently that I recommend:

• Get out of town for a few days, if possible, for a change of scenery and perspective.
• Spend as much time as possible with friends and family.
• Put a twist on some old traditions or start some new ones.
• If you’re hosting dinner, keep it small and simple.
• Keep your expectations very, very, very low.

Stay tuned for a post in the near future on how to make Christmas suck less when you’re grieving…