Crowded Table

Inspired by a song and the nostalgia of Catholic Sunday dinners. Crown royal bags of coins, countertops covered in crockpots, and youthful mischief. Grieving what was.

As I begin my journey of healing with my family, I see the obstacles ahead. How everything, especially holidays are going to be very different now. How for some time there will be explanations, complicated emotions and the feeling of wounds being exposed again until there’s nothing left but a small scar, a memory of the hurt inflicted.

I grew up in with a large family. My parents divorced when I was 2, so the entirety of my childhood was split between my mothers family and my fathers. They were both fairly large families, and both sides, throughout my youth prioritized gathering consistently whether it was before or after husky games at my maternal grandmothers house or Sunday dinners at my paternal grandparents house.

My paternal grandparents routinely hosted Sunday dinners(so very Catholic of them) and I even recall years before my great grandparents hosting holidays and poker nights. These Sunday dinners were filled with uncles, aunts, great uncles, great-aunts and tons of cousins. All the cousins would play and enjoy our time and rough house with my grandpa in the living room. Crockpots and plates of finger foods took over every inch of counter space. My cousins Melissa and I would put olives on our fingers before eating them. We would get into trouble and blame the boy cousins for everything.

After everyone ate the fathers, uncles and grandpas would pull out their crown royal bags of change and play poker. Aunts, moms and grandmothers would visit and help clean the kitchen. Us kids played and played and relished every moment.

On my mothers side, holidays and parts of summer vacations were spent at my great grandparents home in Cheney, Washington. I didn’t have cousins my age on that side but I got special time with my great grandparents and the large Christmas gatherings at their home is a fixture to my core happy memories growing up. My second cousins, great-aunts, great uncles and my aunt took time to get to know my interests. My great grandmother would take me to pick raspberries and play “fashion show” with me. My great uncle John taught me “chopsticks” on the piano in the family room of their Cheney home. My brother and I were allowed to walk to Main Street and go to the Owl Pharmacy because it was such a quaint town.

I’m used to crowded tables, family traditions and my memories of these times fills me with joy. It’s been my dream, as an adult to host these gatherings. I got to host one Thanksgiving, for my fathers side, but medical events made it so my grandparents couldn’t be there. I have also hosted a few Christmas Eve’s with Mike’s side, a tradition that used to take place at his mothers home and after they sold the house we began hosting.

This was a time that brought me deep joy. I love baking and decorating and having everyone together in my space. I love the cousins running amok and eating too many sweets. I love the frosting and powdered sugar covered faces of nieces and nephews as they gobble up my cookies. But that has all come to an abrupt end now. And I find myself looking ahead and trying to maintain my sense of joy and excitement for the coming holidays.

Covid ended the large gatherings for holidays with my paternal grandparents. Deteriorating health and the new discomfort and risks of large groups indoors with vulnerable folks has made those no longer a reality. Sunday dinners have been long gone. And my maternal side of my family also fewer and far between now due to life, and of course the pandemic.

I feel a deep sadness that this is no longer important to people and that family gatherings aside from holidays (now even those, not so much) seem to be a thing of the past. My generation of cousins that played together so voraciously doesn’t seem to want to recreate those times for our children.

I long for a noisy and bustling kitchen, laden with crock pots of every era and trays of food. I want to hear the laughter and pattering of children’s feet as they run down hallways and under tables playfully. I even tried to create a framework to get people together and it just didn’t connect. And now, learning that my husbands family, his brother more specifically *hated* our holiday get togethers the reminiscing feels sour to me.

I know my nieces and nephews joy was real and true. I do my best to focus on where the love is abundant. Where the memories are authentically joyful. And I face forward now, looking to how I can get that Crowded Table once again and how I can cultivate new traditions with family both by DNA and new family members collected over the years.

Crowded Table by The Highwomen

You can hold my hand
When you need to let go
I can be your mountain
When you're feeling valley-low
I can be your streetlight
Showing you the way home
You can hold my hand
When you need to let go

I want a house with a crowded table
And a place by the fire for everyone
Let us take on the world while we're young and able
And bring us back together when the day is done

If we want a garden
We're gonna have to sow the seed
Plant a little happiness
Let the roots run deep
If it's love that we give
Then it's love that we reap
If we want a garden
We're gonna have to sow the seed

Yeah I want a house with a crowded table
And a place by the fire for everyone
Let us take on the world while we're young and able
And bring us back together when the day is done

The door is always open
Your picture's on my wall
Everyone's a little broken
And everyone belongs
Yeah, everyone belongs

I want a house with a crowded table
And a place by the fire for everyone
Let us take on the world while we're young and able
And bring us back together when the day is done
And bring us back together when the day is done