FOOD
Blistered string beans, mango salsa, and spiced salmon. Doesn’t get much better than this, especially when you don’t have to cook it!
(Finn’s wondering if I want that second slice of French bread?)
That was Thursday. Last night a neighbor dropped off lasagne and the most delicious chop salad ever. Oh, and a crunchy walnut-covered pastry filled with chocolate ganache. Let me say it was so rich and tasty that I’m glad we split it three ways.
Tonight I’m gonna try one of Jamie Oliver’s quick recipes. These tubers will get chopped on a cutting board drizzled with olive oil along with feta cheese and cilantro. Thirteen minutes in the microwave was his “cheat.” Also, I might mix in some couscous from a meal dropped off on Wednesday.
KNOWING
Here are two things I’ve recently learned about grief. One I’m glad to know, the other, not so much.
I’m glad to know that loss can and often does cause intense heaviness in the chest. My father died of a heart attack at the age of 54 and I know two people who have had “broken heart” heart attacks. Knowing the commonality of this physical symptom eases my mind.
What I’m less psyched to learn is that many folks observe that Year Two of grieving is much harder than Year One.
To that I say, great. Just great.
Yes, yes, the kind neighbors will move on, the meals will stop, but more what seems to get people is how the aching permanence of the loved one’s absence becomes more real.
I’m not seeking out depressing notions or dwelling on them (well, maybe a little), but things cross my screen and I notice them and sometimes I find myself telling you about them.
MEDIUMS
Just read another book about a local medium. For a person who can barely get through six paragraphs of a Booker Prize-winning novel, it’s very noticeable that I devoured this book in three sittings.
It wasn’t particularly well written but it didn’t matter. The point about the permeability between life and death was made over and over and that’s something I need to believe right now.
I love the lively juxtaposition of Finn and elegant plating. Such creative tension!
I hear your dread about year two, but I think you’ll find many other people who say that year one is the hardest and time does tend to ease the pain. Perhaps the roller coaster continues, but with gentler slopes. I wish that for you and Ken, along with comforting discoveries of permeability.
I think there are no rules, just keep going as mom would say, let it be.
I love to hear your joy when talking about food.
I like your mom’s energy. Over on your blog today and here. Her optimism feels so genuine.
I hope you’re right and anyway it doesn’t do any of us any good to anticipate things getting worse.
Sorry, that was me, jude, commenting in the wrong place.
Dee~ Oh my lands! That top plate looks like a photo I’d be ripping out of one of my magazines!! I am glad you are able to enjoy food so much. What great friends & neighbors you’ve got. I bet Finney-boy was drooling 😀
I think don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched, or in this case…don’t worry ahead of time (this one is so hard for me!!) Grief will come as it does. Period. May you move through with as much ease as possible. Sounds like escape books may help with that!
xo
I’m so grateful that my appetite is (mostly) back. And yeah, it doesn’t help to awfulize about next year — especially when it’s taking all I’ve got I just to get through a day here.
Awfulize that’s a new word to me .. I like it!! I agree with how you used it here .. one day at a time putting one foot in front of the other is plenty good in my book. Next week .. month .. year will come soon enough.