Holiday reflection on a divided family

I was reading through my recipes in preparation for my thanksgiving food purchases and found the notes I jotted down a year ago on how dad seasons the turkey. The notes are still on the same sheet of plain computer paper, likely taken off the printer hurriedly, written in pencil. Why haven't I transferred the recipe over to permanent prettier stationary yet? I remember writing the recipe down last year vividly and remember thinking at that time that dad wouldn't be around much longer for the holidays. He had been coming around less and less ever since he got involved with his girlfriend or as I like to call her,"that woman", the previous year.Coincidentally, I met his girlfriend around this time when they first started dating two years ago. It was the Sunday before thanksgiving and I called my dad to see what time he was coming over to show me how to season the turkey. The turkey was unthawed just like he instructed me and I was ready for him to teach me the next steps. I wanted to learn how to do it on my own. Instead of coming over, he told me to drive over to his place because he had some food in the oven and couldn't leave it unattended. I packed up the turkey and some key ingredients. It wasn't terribly inconvenient, dad literally lived around the corner from me. I pulled into the driveway and parked next to a black sedan, not his car. I knocked on the door out of respect even though I had a key only because I knew of her. He had told me of her a few months ago and I had come to terms with her because he seemed happier, certainly happier than he was when my parents first got separated. I didn't know I was going to meet her today (thanks for the heads up dad). He answered the door and invited me in. Having to knock on the door was already weird before it instantly got weirder.The house was not what is used to be. When mom lived there, there was life, comfort, and the house was lived in. This space was dark, sad, and wrong. The dark haired, short woman, stood in our old dining room with a stern look on her face. I was polite and said hello through my discomfort. She barely acknowledged me.Dad and I went in the kitchen as he walked me through step by step how to clean the turkey and season it. I asked dumb questions I already knew the answers to because my dad laughed and corrected me and it entertained him. The smell of cinnamon rolls that were in the oven started to fill the kitchen, he asked if I wanted some.The woman, still in the other room, grabbed her car keys loudly and walked out the front door. My dad chased after her, they spoke outside for a few minutes that seemed eternal. I gave them their privacy while feeling extremely uncomfortable in my parent's home. I must've overstayed my welcome. I packed up my turkey and things and left. That is how I met the woman that took dad from us.I saw her again three days later in a very awkward run in at the grocery store. I was with my mom and two sisters while we got last minute thanksgiving day ingredients. I remember feeling my heart pounding fast as I lied to my sister about who that strange lady was with dad in the baking aisle. Why did I lie? I wasn't on their side. And why do we go to the same grocery store for the love of God? There are two other ones nearby. I remember having what seemed like a panic attack wondering where my mom and other sister had wandered off to and hoping mom wouldn't run into my dad and his new girlfriend. Later that night, mom, my sisters, and I, all talked about it. Mom confessed that she already knew of her and didn't want to be the one to tell us.My step dad and I (I hate the term step dad but it will help differentiate between dads in my life) over the years, have had a very complicated relationship to say the least. We bond over cooking, crazy things mom says or does, or a good bottle of wine. We do not see eye to eye on just about anything else including his faults in the cause of my parent's divorce. He feels I played a role in their separation and I know now that he is right and now he ignores me (more about this later). I get the point dad. You don't want me in your life.My mom and biological father divorced when I was three years old. My mom and step dad divorced when I was thirty-one years old. This last one was tough- tougher than I thought it would be.I've seen my dad only a handful of times since that disaster of an encounter at the local Harris Teeter. We invited him to thanksgiving that week two years ago and he stopped by just long enough to grab a slice of turkey and tell me I had done a good job while the black sedan was left running on the edge of our driveway. We think she was in the car. Maybe they were on their way to see her family.Even though I knew their divorce was coming, I didn't expect a tapered rejection and abandonment. Who feels abandoned as an adult? It's the strangest feeling! And for some odd reason, I feel special (not in a good way). My other brothers and sisters seem to be okay with dad not being around for the holidays, or keeping in touch. The gradual loss of contact is strange and confusing to me. We've been through so much in our lives. Doesn't that count for something?He came by last year on thanksgiving week to walk me through seasoning the turkey (which is when I wrote down the recipe), but didn't come on thanksgiving. Last year, we invited him to christmas eve dinner and gift exchange, we got him presents, he didn't show. I text him for his birthday earlier this year, no response. I text him for father's day, no response.I text him to invite him to thanksgiving this year just a week ago after serious contemplating, yet again no response. I told myself that this was the last attempt on my part. I'm done putting in the effort to include him. I also told myself that after father's day but I've text him twice since. My mom wants me to be hopeful; she says he's going through a lot and he'll come around. I feel differently.Is every thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, going to feel the way I feel right now? Was last year the last time my dad and I season the thanksgiving turkey together? Was two years ago, this time, always be instilled in my memory as the year I met "that woman" and the year my dad moved onto a new family?I'm not sad or angry (anymore). I'm confused and I don't like his actions.