Recipes

Memory is a peculiar thing, sometimes gentle and consoling, other times so painful. What a trigger of emotions it is! I suppose that's a given, and not terribly profound, but I'm really not trying to be profound.

This week, my friend lost her mom, and in listening to her speak from the depths of her loss, I heard myself. I don't just remember myself saying the very things she was saying -- I still say them now, three years after my own mother passed away.

For example, one thing that I feel so often is the desire -- the deep and intense longing -- to ask her questions. [Oh, Liz, I know you understand this.] Thankfully, my mother shared her thoughts with me freely and abundantly -- told me stories about herself and how she faced the many stages of her life with their varied joys and challenges, told me what it was like to mother me (poor soul), told me what her thoughts were about being a wife, a daughter, a niece, a mom . . . oh, my . . . she had answers for everything. I didn't always agree with her, but she had answers. More often than not, she had the answers. I am so grateful.

The most painful reality in all of this is that some of those answers were known only to her. And now they are gone with her. Just like that.

The day after I heard Liz's news, my dad called:"Hey! Do you remember how Mama used to bake chicken? I have the recipe, but it's incomplete." He continued telling me every detail of that recipe, and everything he could remember about that silly chicken dish, while my eyes filled with tears. I could have handled it on some other day, but not on that one. I was so glad he kept talking!

This morning I spoke with another friend who is also deeply saddened by Liz's loss. Ann began to speak of her own mother, whom she lost 20 years ago. She described the ache that just surfaced when she could not find (I should not have been surprised) -- one of her mother's recipes. ;-(

I have shared in the past about a special journal that my mother kept. Unlike her private journals, this one was written to be shared. Tonight I was poking through it and paused on a question that asked, "What was your favorite meal when you were a child? What made it your favorite?" Right there in the middle of the page was a recipe for chili. Of course.

I wonder how many daughters have felt the same over something as simple as a recipe? I wonder how many still reach for the phone when they just need to know? In so many ways, I find myself saying,

"I have the recipe, but it's incomplete."

~ End Quote