It has been almost two months since my beloved daddy passed on. As difficult as it has been, I knew from past experiences that time will indeed heal all things. As expected, my heart is gradually filling with contentment and gratitude rather than its former mourning emptiness.
Thankfully, my gratitude for my daddy is something I have always had, as I always knew how special he was to me and so many others. I have also felt very grateful for my friends and extended family; however, I did not know how humbled and comforted I would be by their thoughtfulness during this time.
Clearly, no words, no flowers, or no casseroles can take the pain away from losing a loved one, but I believe that caring deeds do truly help mend broken hearts. My family was overwhelmed with the generosity of the cards, the charitable contributions, and the flowers, but the food, the food was truly comforting. I believe it fed my family's soul when it was starving for comfort.
While my family gathered around our old dining room table to write his loving obituary, knocks at the door brought carafes of hot coffee, warm cinnamon rolls, various bagels, cream cheese, and bowls of fresh fruit! All through the weekend of funeral preparations, pans of cheesy lasagna, homemade casseroles, sloppy joes, steaming soups, and homemade pies came parading through my kitchen like we were in a restaurant's galley.
In a weekend, my kitchen transformed into a vast buffet table from the finest of home-cooked kitchens. No fancy restaurant could compare to the love and sentiment cooked or baked in each and every dish.
As family members gathered, and pictures were sorted; tears and laughter flowed harmoniously while eating delicious plates of stuffed pasta shells and bowls of spicy chicken chili. Fruit, relish, and cheese trays were munched while old home videos were lovingly edited into the night. And pans of brownies, buckets of ice cream and an immense dessert sideboard fulfilled my family's once saddened sweet-tooths, as we reminisced about my daddy's own sweet-tooth that we all so proudly inherited.
Let it be said, that each and every casserole, tureen of soup, and cinnamon apple pie you send over to a house of mourning is appreciated more than you know. When you think that they have enough food or that they don't want to be bothered, know that they need you. Know that your sweet face of sympathy, your thoughtful sentiments, your cards and flowers, your prayers and your pan of lasagna comfort them deeply and profoundly.
As I think back at the raw wounds my family was suffering, and the powerful medicine of hope that the food magically provided, I am astounded at its healing power. For somehow, the creamy goodness of a plate of macaroni and cheese and/or a slice of cherry pie, encouraged our sad hearts with happy pangs of love and hope - and that is the ultimate comfort food for the soul.
Eat Pie, and be Comforted. xoxox Linda