Thanksgiving, the holidays have arrived. I ask myself, “what stage of grief is this?”

Every holiday before this one has always been the 5 of us. Sitting around the table talking about politics and whatever other subject area happened to make its way onto the lips of one of us. And the eating! We would eat until it hurt. I was blessed.

I am lying on the floor of the ladies’ restroom at my employer’s office in downtown Denver. I can hear the heels of women coming in, using the bathroom, talking to each other and then leaving. I am simply paralyzed.

I can’t get up and at this moment in time I am thankful that these bathrooms have doors that go all the way to the floor, so no one sees me.