When I was younger I rarely said no to food. I liked almost everything except baked macaroni and cheese with stewed tomatoes. Absolutely hated it but it was my Dad’s favorite.
“Do I have to eat this?” I said. “I’ll eat anything else.”
“You’ll eat what’s put in front of you.” said my Dad.
He was raised with 6 other siblings in the old Irish Boston projects so you take what you can get. I’d eat the smallest amount I had to so I could get away from that table. Had I known I’d lose my dad 10 months before Clayton, I would have eaten all the baked macaroni and cheese with stewed tomatoes that he wanted just to spend more time with him at that dinner table.
It’s funny how the situations of our past show up in our future so many years later…
“I’ll have the pandemic with a side of impending anniversary grief please.”
“Order Up” the Universe replied.
I never actually ordered that. I have, however, been asking for life to slow down and I guess I got my wish but this isn’t what I meant.
Now it’s like I’m at a 7course meal and I keep being served crap. I try to be positive about the next course and it’s over seasoned, under seasoned, under cooked, overcooked, full of empty emotional calories and cold.
“Excuse me, Universe. I’m not usually the one to send food back but this plate of bland cold life is just not good. Can you run it back to the kitchen and warm it up please?
“Sorry sir but our Executive Universe Chef is an artist and sending it back won’t get you a new creation. You’ll just have to eat what’s put in front of you…”
In 12 days it will be the second anniversary of Tin’s passing. How has it been 2 years already? It hurts. What seemed like agonizingly difficult days during his illness are long gone. What I would give to work all day, come home and have dinner with him. At a time that I really need to be around people, I’m forced to be socially distant. What is social distancing anyways? It feels like the world is getting a lesson in widowhood. The life they are used too, the people they want to interact with and everything they love is gone so they sit at home feeling depressed except, in this version of a grief journey, there is another side and they’ll get it all back. They’ll get to sit down and have dinner together again. I hope they all appreciate it when it all returns and they get the get the chance again to say:
“Please Pass the Salt.”
