This year, as we acknowledged Thanksgiving, I was thinking about the sweet traditions my family created for the holiday.

Traditions that involve my mom are a bittersweet thing. There are some that we continue to employ because they bring light, and there are others that are simply too hard or not possible to carry on without my mom’s involvement.

Our family Thanksgiving celebration is one of the latter types of tradition. We used to host lovely Thanksgiving dinners in Pleasanton, opening our home to both new and old friends alike. My mom would cook the turkey, Sanam her famous “potatoes off the wall,” and the rest of us would help with setting the table, or getting dessert ready. We’d have over a handful of families, and right before we started dinner we’d all gather round the delicious spread in the kitchen and each person would say what they were thankful for. I can still feel the warmth and love as I think about it now.

Of course, my mom was such a key source of this warmth and love, and so trying to maintain the same tradition now is too hard. But even for these types of traditions, I still find joy in looking back on them and remembering.

One of the traditions I was thinking about this Thanksgiving was how my mom would lead a card game each year after we’d finished our feast. We’d gather in a circle, sitting on the floor in the family room with the fireplace going, and she’d explain the rules to any newcomers: Each person had to come up with a codename and share with the group – the sillier the better. I think Rapunzel was mine one year.

Then, my mom would deal a card to each person, one by one going round the circle. If your card was the same number as anyone else’s in the circle, you had to shout their codename. Whoever correctly shouted the other person’s name first won and got to take the other person’s card. Then the game would continue, with cards continuing to be dealt until the next pair of cards emerged and shouting match ensued. The person who amassed the largest pile of cards at the end won.

I remember there always being so much laughter as people would scramble to recall each other’s names… “Aladdin! No… Humpty Dumpty!…. No… Rapunzel! Yes!”

Then there was the tradition that followed the day after Thanksgiving, when our family would drive over to Home Depot which had the best deals on fresh Christmas trees. We’d fork through tree after tree until we found a full-bodied 6-7 foot Douglas fir that we were thoroughly satisfied with. As each tree was tied up with string, my mom would whip out her Swiss army knife* from her handbag when we’d find a nice fat prospect, and we’d cut away the string and shake open the tree to get a better look. We’d make my dad hold the trees upright, side by side, and we’d pick a winner. While we were analyzing the trees, my mom would wander off to the Christmas tree scrap pile, which was full of sawed off tree branches, and she’d pick a couple branches to bring home and use as festive decoration for the lamps on our garage exterior.

*My mom seemed to have an endless supply of these Swiss army knives, which were always freebies from conferences and such; each time she went through airport security she’d forget to remove the knife and would get it confiscated. But her endless stash would just supply her with another!

Another special holiday tradition my mom started for us was dropping Christmas gifts off to families who couldn’t afford them. I don’t know what the organization was that she signed up for, but they’d provide us with Christmas gift lists for a few families in need, and then in the lead-up to Christmas we’d buy them the gifts on their list. Then, we’d drive to each of the family’s homes in Oakland, and drop off the box of gifts ahead of Christmas day.

As I write about this tradition, which I actually haven’t thought about in some time, this strikes me as something I’d like to do again. It’s a special giving practice my mom got our family into and I think this is one I’d like to keep up.

To round off this post, I want to share one more tradition, albeit not holiday-related. I don’t know why, but it’s been on my mind for a while. It was a simple one – our casual weekend brunches at home. We’d have parathas and bhujia (scrambled egg), though I’d just eat plain parathas since I didn’t care for eggs. Sometimes we’d fry tomatoes as well, and once every so often we’d switch up the meal and have aloo puri instead.

I don’t remember a lot of detail from these brunches, but what I do remember my mom in her purple long-sleeved salwar kameez as she stood next to the stove, folding triangle parathas and ensuring we were well-fed.

It was a simple tradition, but one of comfort.

Indeed, I like reminiscing on these traditions because they all bring me comfort. And while we may not have the luxury of continuing all these going forward, the comfort in the special memories these traditions created can’t be taken away.