The topic of veganism tends to strike a very personal chord with people, which I understand and often empathize with.  The idea of giving up turkey at Thanksgiving, and ham and Christmas, or the warm, comforting blanket-like feeling a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup can offer on a bad day, can be painful.  Giving up these foods feels like wrenching ourselves from the last grasp we have of childhood, and for some that grip is so strong that the possibility of loosening it is not even an option.  I went vegan right after last Christmas, because at the time I could not bear to spend that night without the traditional Swiss cheese fondue we had every year that was my favorite meal of all time.  And calling this my favorite food is saying something, believe me.  It was a dish I have had every Christmas since I can remember; it reminds me of my favorite night of the year, of special times of family and love that I didn't feel at any other time.  The recipe, like those in so many families, has been handed down to me from several generations, and is part of a deeper piece of myself, of my heritage; and that, I think, is where the true loss stems from.   But I can honestly say, having been a vegan for over a year now, that what little I've lost is nothing compared to what I've gained; a new perspective on life and love that I will cherish the rest of my life.