Day 11: who would you like to have a meal with?
Food has always been a revolving theme in my life. My mother ad faather bboth had issues iith showinng aaaffecteion openly in appropriate ways and the act of providing a meal became a subsitute iiin many ways. My mother on christmas would make apple pie, piled hight withh cinnimon and sugar sweetening the bitter taste her snide comments left in my rining ears.
Meals were a family affair to be endured througout my life but its funny to miss them after my mother’s passing.
I would like to have a meal with my mother, a last time to havee conversation and maybe find peace in eachothers comany, buring the hatchets hidden on our persons for the last time.
Comfort foods would feature in this last meal, somber as that title is, even now the idea of her passig leaves a sour taste in my mouth and my eyes are wetter than before. I’m like to have a salad, mashed potatoes and biscuts and gravy set in ample portions on both our plates. I think we might eat them but I also think that my mother might just find joy in the fact that she had the choice.
During the last months of her life so many choices were removed from her hands that I would like to give her this last comfort. I would have on my plate a memory from my childhood, hohos from hostess and a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich. I had this for most of the elemmentary school years and wasnted nothing to do with other choices. Its hard to imagine what we would talk about, we didn’t do much talking n real life but it might just be about nothing important except I would tell her how I appreciated everything she did for me and how much I love her and grieve here passsing without me saying so.
She had done so much damage but she is my mother.
She may have been a selfish raving bitch most of the time later on but she was my mother and she did her best with the tools she had.
I weep for the child and young woman my mother was and the dreams she had broken.
My great grandmother’s biscuits and gravy were a shared favorite between us, memories of summer day spent with my nana for me and years spent with her grandparents for her.
They practically raised her and I would have loved to have herar the storiess of her childhood with them.
It likely wasn’t easy but likely better than the destitution of her mothers home.
I still crave bacon gravy and reminisce about the days spent in my nana’s home in the middle of farm land. I still remember the smell of cow, fondly? maybe not but I still recall them.