First: There is more Mortimer coming, I just have to get my lazy butt in gear and finish drawing. I promise: Soon.
Second:
You know, I am one lucky, lucky Fat Chick. Seriously. I am. I’m like the luckiest person I know. And you know what got me thinking about this? Ok, bear with me, it’s a bit convoluted
So.
I love to bake, but I don’t want baked items around my house. I don’t want to eat them. My metabolism is about 5 mph slower than sluggish, so baked goods all over the place would be a baaaad idea. Plus, I don’t really like cake, and isn’t that the best thing to bake, cake? I used to bake cakes from scratch and then give them to my doormen, I don’t know why I stopped.
Well, anyway, I decided that whenever I go to a friend’s house, I’d bring a baked item. That way I get the joy of baking, and my little condo in the sky smells amazing, and my friend gets the joy of eating whatever I make.
My dear friend Sharon invited me over last weekend, so I decided to make a banana nut bread (and I’ll post the recipe soon). The recipe was my mother’s. I think. See, she died before I got to ask her for it, but I remembered that it had Wheat Chex in it, so back in college I went searching high and low and found one – exactly ONE – recipe with Wheat Chex in it. The bread is tasty, I’m not kidding. If you don’t believe me, ask Sharon.
Well, I made the bread, then on Saturday night I complained to my friend L about how I missed my mom, and I knew that I could say anything to her and it would be A-Ok.
And then spent Monday totally cranky. I didn’t know why I was cranky until Sharon called. She asked me if I bake pies, and hooo boy. I went on this huge long tangent about how it would be really painful because my mother baked pies, and my laws those apple pies (and blueberry and strawberry and pumpkin and… you get the idea) were to. die. for. and it just bums me out that my mom is gone and I can’t ask her for the recipes. It’s another aspect of the enormous loss, you know? I didn’t just lose my mother, I lost so many things that were characteristic and reminiscent of her.
And poor Sharon. Just like the lovely, kind, patient friend she is, she listened to my emotional rambling and didn’t judge me later. And then? Then I realized that I’d been cranky because I was missing my mom.
I experience the loss of my mother all the time. All the time. It never goes away, not completely. But me? I’m lucky. I’m lucky because I have friends – and not just Sharon, I could list at least two others, N and L, ahem – who listen to my crap and try to understand and help me to figure out what the hell is going on with me. And you know what else? It makes it better. Me. Who at one point thought talking about this stuff was the very shit of the bull, me. It makes me better because I feel better, and I’m not hiding from it, hiding from the enormity of the loss. I deal with it, and I’m so lucky that I have friends who help me deal with it.
I remember you talking about your Mum and the tragic way she died. It is hard to live with such a profound loss as that. You’ll never get over it, but this deep sense of loss is what makes us see what a truely remarkable person our departed loved one was. I think the garden rake sums up what you’re going through quite neatly, too!
Perhaps you could also sell your baked goods? You should really bake those cakes for the doormen again. They’re probably wondering why you stopped!
Always thinking of you and sending you virtual hugs!
This really hit me today as I associate pretty much every recipe I know with my Grandmother. I am lucky that I have the recipes.
But the day you found the chex banana bread recipe? That must have been an awesome day.
((((hugs))))
It sounds like you have some wonderful friends and that your mother was equally wonderful.
And, please do share the recipes.
My mother (talking about the loss of her mother) calls it the “garden rake theory of loss.” You are going along just fine for a little while, walking along, and then wham, you step on the teeth/tongs/whatever of the rake, lying hidden in the grass, without realizing it, and suddenly the handle of the rake flies up and smacks you so hard in the face that you can’t believe it. Sounds like you just stepped on the garden rake again. I’m sorry.
virtual hugs for you.
So sorry you’re feeling that loss right now. So sorry you have that loss at all is really what I mean, I guess.
I’m happy you’re lucky.
That kind of luck is the most important to have. ♥
Beautifully expressed hun. I feel your sadness and loss and am so sorry for it for you. I loved the”shit of the bull” line, it made me smile before I cried.
My grandmother taught me to bake pies, now when make them I think of her but it is a happy thing. I wish it could be that way for you.
Much love.
Sounds yummy. I’m sorry you are missing your mom. I am hoping that you soon have a little one who loves you that much so you can pass along all those tidbits.