Thanksgiving

Steve and Tyra, Thanksgiving 2007

Five years ago, Steve was driving me, Cooper, 6, and Katie, 2, home from our annual Thanksgiving visit with the Jones family in Austin. (We would often joke that our wedding vows should have included Steve promising me that he would always drive on road trips. I don't love driving.)

Somewhere near Waco, we started to piece together all of his odd symptoms.

Constant headache that Tylenol couldn't resolve.
Difficulty swallowing thin liquids.
Slightly slurred speech.
Frequent hiccups.

"You should call your doctor on Monday," I said.

"You're right," he said.

I also remember Steve telling stories about high school friends, antics and parties. We laughed a lot.

It was the last time that Steve would drive us home from Austin.

The next Thanksgiving I drove our family of four to Austin and back.

And the following year, we faced Thanksgiving without Steve. And again. And again. And this year again.

No matter how many times I'm on the road back from Austin, when we pass through Waco, I think of that 2007 conversation. I don't even try to fight back the wave of sadness. And I welcome the memories of our laughter -- pure joy with no idea of the sorrow to come.

Tyra, Cooper and Katie, Thanksgiving 2012

Steve's candle, Thanksgiving 2012