The holiday season is upon us again. This will be the third set of them since we lost Steve, and I still don’t feel like I’ve figured them out.

For the last two years, making plans to get out of the house and see another corner of the world worked out OK, but this year, A won’t have much time for a break. It seems unfair to drag him somewhere else when all he really wants to do is come home and crash.

Also, with both other kids in high school, their commitment to their athletic and academic activities that will take place over holiday breaks can’t be denied either.

We have several gracious invites for an assortment of holiday activities coming up, and I know that the kids are eagerly looking forward to some of them. For me, however, going anywhere is always a reminder that I’m not where I’m supposed to be.

For whatever reason, there also seem to be a lot of social events coming up this year that I and “guest” have been invited to. Getting seated at a table of eight or 10 means an empty chair next to me, or else being paired up with someone else who is an oddball for whatever their reason is. Explanations of other commitments, watching the kids, or anything else their plus one might be busy with usually pales in comparison to mine is busy being dead.

I guess we’ll be decorating a little bit more this year. Last weekend, E spent most of her weekend deep cleaning her room. At least that’s what she told me. On Sunday night, she called me in to see her made-over winter wonderland bedroom. She’d hauled out several strings of colored lights, her mini-Christmas tree and a few other seasonal decorations. It was warm, cozy and cheerful. None of which I was feeling. It made her happy, though, so that is something.

I know we have a lot to be thankful for this year. The big one is obviously A finishing high school on a high note, getting into his dream school, and settling in on campus relatively well. I do have to applaud my own efforts to be OK with this whole college thing. While I do miss him a lot and our family dynamic still feels weird without his constant presence, all things considered, it’s gone about as good as it can go.

That whole experience was eye opening for G, who has buckled down and embraced the challenges of his junior year, suddenly caring a whole lot more about test scores, grades and extracurricular activities. E has transitioned to the high school well. The responsibilities that come with that have been daunting at times, but she seems to be finding her footing.

E also had the opportunity to join a larger swim program than the one she’s been swimming with the last few years. The opportunity to work with new coaches and swim with different kids has been good for her. She’s also tried some new after-school clubs and activities, and finally seems to be coming out of the shell that the pandemic and then losing Steve had driven her into. She and I have been navigating that delightful world mom versus teenager, which has its explosive moments, but also some very warm and fun ones, as well.

These are all good and important things to be happening with the kids and, of course, I am grateful for them. However, every step forward for them, every morph into a slightly new and different person, brings regret for me that Steve isn’t here to share this chapter of their lives with them. Most of the time, it feels like I can only be about three-quarters grateful for the good things.

It’s been a pretty good year as far as house projects go. I can be very thankful that I literally have a new roof over my head. That was a monumental task, one that had to be done, and one that now I can hopefully check off the list for the next 30 years or so.

I take tremendous pride in finishing something that I know Steve wanted to complete. Whether I’ve just followed through on a project he’d already started or taken on something that he might have said in passing, “Well, we’ll have to fix/replace that someday,” it means a lot to me to keep the progress he envisioned going.

Boundaries are another thing that I’m thankful for this year. It’s been a polarizing year on many levels, and I’ve finally given myself permission to draw lines and not let people who challenge my peace cross them. This hasn’t been without its challenges, and I’m sure it’s caused hurt feelings or confusion at times.

But, I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I am the only person who knows what my limits are and I am the only person who can set those limits. I’ve learned to not only let things and people go, but I’ve learned to be OK with those decisions.

I hope this has been a good year for you. I hope that you gather around a big table full of family or friends or, at the very least, the people that you want to be with, and I hope that your conversations are stimulating.

As we face a new year, that for some will bring an inordinate amount of dread and worry, I hope these last few weeks are spent finding what enjoyment you can with those that you love.

I hope you also have time to yourself to breathe, and to reflect on the events of the past year and remember those that have brought you joy.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News.