That’s it. The holidays are officially cancelled.

So, my grandson (my only grandson) texted me a couple of weeks ago, asking if he and his girlfriend could come up to visit for Thanksgiving. Around that same time, my granddaughter (not my only granddaughter) asked if I would fly her out to be with me for part of her Christmas break. There were big deals. Big asks. It was a shame that I had to say no to both requests.

It will earn me zero public support to admit that I’m so far behind in this book that I decided to forego celebrating the 2025 Holiday Season. I’m not cooking turkey. I’m not erecting a tree. I’m not buying presents. And I’m not hosting company.

The horror, I know. Everyone needs to be able to shut down here or there. Take a break. Put our families first. I get it. I agree. But this year, I have to decline. Therefore, I’d like to use this month’s Musings to list a few of the things I’m grateful for (in no particular order).

First off, I love my family. So <expletive> much. We’re an odd bunch, to be honest. We fall in and out of each other’s lives on the regular. We fight. We separate. We regroup. And we move on from the last place we enjoyed each other’s company. I’m not proud of that, and I’ll maintain a bit of privacy as to the varied root causes. I only share this to confess that I’ve not had a real holiday with any of them for many years. This would have been a perfect time for us to congregate―especially after having lost our beloved patriarch back in February.

Man, I miss my dad.

Second, I’m grateful for my marriage. Another imperfect pairing. My husband is my hero. Please don’t tell him I said so. His head swells with such praise and he becomes impossible to live with. But it’s true. He’s a hero. He’s the guy whose parents were together, raising him in the same house, having the same friends…you see what I mean. Many folks, like me, grew up in chaotic environments all over the place. They may lack, and simultaneously crave, a sense of stability. That’s not my husband. He’s the balance in our relationship. The one who loves me even when I’m moody. Or scared. Or when I doubt myself. He’s my firm supporter. My foil, at times. But always the one who knows how to talk me off the proverbial ledge, where I dwell far more often than people would suspect.

My biggest fear is ever having to face my life without him.

I’m also grateful for the ability to pursue my life’s passion: writing. It would take more than a blog post to explain the curious journey I’ve taken to realize that this is what I want to do. It’s what comes most naturally, so I have to think it’s what I was born for. Forget any lack of substantive sales or number of reviews. I have confidence and enough feedback on my work to know I’m where I need to be. And, in fairness, if it weren’t for my family and my husband, I wouldn’t have the freedom to exclude everything around me in order to try to meet a deadline, be it put upon me or self-imposed.

There are endless reasons to be grateful for the blessings in one’s life, and we all have them whether we realize it or not. The roof over our heads. The food in our tummies. The people who champion us on (looking at you, Hank and Sisu). The things and people that make our hearts swell. I could go on for pages about what makes me smile. I bet you could, too. And I sincerely hope that those who read this will do just that. Take that moment. Reflect on the moments, however fleeting, that have made your soul sing.

Yet still, no celebrations this year for the O’Brien clan.

You see, I’m also thankful for a sense of purpose, loyalty, and sober commitments made to others. It really bothers me to have missed my September deadline for finishing this book I’m writing. Those who regularly read these posts have heard it ad nauseum. I’d be thrilled to say it’s a “labor of love,” but it’s more than that. I don’t think I ever really understood just how much more. But I do now. There are people who rely on me to see this through not only to completion but to the fixed dates upon which we agreed.

Would they “understand” if that doesn’t happen? I think so, though I believe it would disappoint them. But I don’t want to ask them for that understanding. I’d rather―just this once―ask for the understanding of those to whom I’m so grateful. So I did. And they did not disappoint.

There have been many times I’ve wanted to stop writing this book. It’s hard. It’s complicated. It’s been met with unbelievable resistance, even from those who’ve voiced a commitment to champion the victims’ causes. It may or may not be dangerous to some degree (bring it on, by the way). It’s exhausting. And it asks for a lot of input and sacrifice from others who have better things to do with their own lives. Nonetheless, here we are. All of us. And so, on we go. We don’t stop. We don’t quit. We make those sacrifices.

There are a lot of things I’d do differently on this project, if I could turn back the clock. I’d have started writing earlier. I’d have researched and pulled documents in the months prior to getting the contracts signed. I’d have spent more nights reading through the case files after having ended my writing for the day. I’d have paid an assistant to help pull and print files, make inquiries, and set my calendar. I’d have realized that writing true crime is not only different than writing fiction, it demands a different style of commitment.

I did none of these things.

Still, as one-month tardy quickly becomes “two,” I think the ultimate goal of the release date is still obtainable. My family understands that this year’s festivities will be rescheduled to the next, and I have asked them to help start planning next year’s holidays, where we’ll be together, filling ourselves with turkey and stuffing, and pulling out our Christmas decorations. And at that time, I’ll have a host of new things to be thankful for:

For not quitting.

For honoring my commitments.

And hopefully, for helping give something back to those who lost so much.

The surviving members of two families have lost countless holidays since their lives were so irrevocably shattered. Is it really too much for me to lose one holiday season when they’ve lost all of them, forever?

I don’t think so. And I’m humbled by their faith in me to finish what I started.

Have a happy Thanksgiving, folks. Be grateful. I know I am.