Baby,
I’m amazed. Amazed that I can take care of paying bills, moving and all the other mundane business since you’ve been gone. I’m amazed that I haven’t fallen to pieces. Amazed that I’m trying to get on with my life.
My life collapsed when I knew you weren’t coming back home alive. I have your ashes (part of them—the rest went to your family) in the bedroom. They don’t count as you really being here.
I don’t think you’d want me to go somewhere, hide from the world and wallow in grief. I’ve tried not to, but it’s hard some days.
I miss you so much. I carry part of you everywhere I go, I know, but I miss the part I can touch. The part I can kiss you on the forehead. The part that let me muss up your hair because I wanted to rub your head.
I’m amazed that we made it to where we did. Between the two of us, it was an uphill battle. But we made it.
I’m amazed that I’d rather be by myself than around other people. They only remind me that you’re gone. I don’t feel it so much when I’m home.
Here, you’re all around me. I want to walk into the bedroom and see you sleeping, but I can’t. Instead, I look at things and remember why we have them and the stories behind them.
You’d like the new place. The kitchen’s bigger, and the floor plan makes it seem more spacious than the old place. I lost 140 square feet, but I don’t really miss them.
The cats are doing well, more or less. Lucy still goes to hang out at the pool outside our old front door. And she doesn’t like having to stay in all day when it’s too cold. You could let her in and out when the weather got bad, but once I leave in the morning, she’s stuck outside all day.
Amanda is adjusting better. Her favorite spot on the bed is still there, so she’s content. She ventured out onto the patio, deemed it acceptable and came back in. She spends most of her day curled up on the bed.
I went to a service at the Methodist Church by the grocery on Koenig on the winter solstice last week. It’s billed as “The Longest Night” because it’s is the longest night and shortest day of the year, but it’s more about the long night of mourning and bereavement that comes with death. I wasn’t the only one there crying.
Christmas wasn’t Christmas without you here. I didn’t think it would be. Without you here to fuss over and cook for, it felt like just another day. I got some nice steelhead trout filets, grilled them and had dinner at home.
I’m learning first-hand why your nerve damage was so frustrating. I’ve been walking with a cane for the last 2 ½ weeks because of problems with my knee. My knee and the thigh directly above it alternate between numbness, sharp pain and an intense burning sensation. Sometimes it travels down my shin into my foot.
You’d be proud of me: I actually went to the doctor. He ruled out Parkinson’s, diabetes and thyroid problems, then referred me to a neurologist. I have an MRI and an EMG scheduled for next week.
Walking with a cane is tricky, I’ve learned. Doing so only leaves me with one hand, and trying to find somewhere to prop it when I need both hands is a total bitch. It keeps falling over.
You know I loved you, and I will forever. It’s one thing death can’t kill. If I let it, death would kill my spirit, but I’m not allowing it to. I know that, no matter how many times I ask why, I’ll never get a good answer. The “why” questions usually have no answer in this context.
Don’t spend your time worrying about me. In time, I’ll be okay. I might even be happy again one day. Part of me has remained happy because of the years we had together. It’s not always obvious, and sometimes, finding that happiness seems almost impossible. It’s buried under layer after layer of pain and grief and loss.
But I will survive. I hate to quote Donna Summer (not really), but “I’ve got all my life live and all my love to give, and I’ll survive. I will survive”.
I know that your worrying about me came from a place of love, but you worried too much. I’m devastated and grieving, but I’m doing okay. Not great, but okay.
At this point, “okay” is a good thing.
As I said, I’m amazed that I’m not falling apart. I must be stronger than I thought, and part of that must be because of you.
I’ll see you on the other side.
JM
29 December 2010
02 December 2010
Holiday Recipes (That are Good All Year)
Food has always been an integral part of holidays and feast days. Easter has lamb, Thanksgiving has turkey, Memorial Day and Labor Day have anything that comes off a grill. But there is no definitive Christmas food. Some have ham, some turkey and the adventurous have duck or goose. I've even made a prime rib for Christmas dinner.
Since there is no definitive food, Christmas is an opportunity to be creative. These are some of my ideas. They're good any time of the year, too.
Roast Pork Loin with Orange and Rosemary
Ingredients:
· 1 Pork loin of good quality
· Fresh-squeezed orange juice – ½ cup per pound of pork (use the small, cheap oranges – they generally have more flavor and more juice)
· 4 sprigs of rosemary per pound of pork (don’t even think about using dried – it has to be fresh or it’s no good)
· ¼ cup diced white onions per pound of pork
· ¼ cup olive oil (extra virgin)
· Salt (preferably sea salt)
· Black pepper (freshly cracked)
Salt and pepper the loin and rub about half the olive oil in. Toss in the orange juice, onions and rosemary. Use a pyrex baking dish. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour. It can sit overnight and will be better if it does.
Once it’s marinated, preheat a thick-bottomed steel skillet or cast iron one, add the pork and let it brown on each side. The temperature should be hot enough to caramelize the outside but not really cook the inside or make the oil smoke.
When it’s a pretty brown, take the loin out and put it back in the dish it came from.
Put the glass dish, covered, in a medium temperature oven. Cook until it’s just done. (You need a good meat thermometer for that. They’re cheap. Get one.)
When the loin is done, take it out and lay it on a plate or cutting board to rest.
Pour the dripping into the steel skillet, add a cup or so of good white wine and a couple of tablespoons of butter. (Real butter, unsalted). Gradually bring it to a boil so as not to make the butter clot, and then simmer until you have a thick sauce. Scrape the bottom of the pan regularly to incorporate the crusties into the sauce. They add a lot of flavor.
When the sauce reaches a divine consistency, take it off the heat, put the loin on a serving dish and pour the sauce over it.
Serve as medallions with some sauce atop, under or beside.
Garlic and Dill Potatoes
Ingredients:
· Red potatoes, cubed but not peeled.
· Garlic, pressed or chopped. (Don’t ever use garlic powder. It’s awful.)
· Fresh dill. Drag you fingers down against the way the leaves grow to harvest it.
· Butter (2-4 tblsp).
· Salt.
· Pepper.
Bring a pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Toss in the potatoes and let the water come back to a boil. Reduce the tempature to a low simmer. Cook until they’re tender, but no mushy.
Drain off the water or pour them through a collander and put back in your cooking pan. Add the butter, garlic and dill. Mash until they’re a consistency that you like. I like the old-fashioned hand mashers.
Salt to task and garnish with a little fresh dill.
Tarragon Green Beans
Ingredients:
· Fresh green beans, cleaned and cut to about 2 inches each
· Butter.
· Salt.
· Tarragon. (Fresh tarragon is hard to come by, but the dried is acceptable in this case. It has so much flavor you don’t need much.)
Prepare your beans by snapping off each end and pulling the string off. Wash them thoruoghly.
Bring a pot of lightly-salted water to a simmer. Add the beans and let them simmer until they’re a bright, beautiful green, cooked but still crisp. Drain the water off and add the butter and tarragon. Salt to taste.
Citrus Fruit Salad
Ingredients:
· 2 cups cantaloupe
· 1 can pineapple
· 1 cup white grapes
· 1 Granny Smith apple
· 1 lime
· 1 lemon
· 1 juice orange
· 1-1.5 cups honey
Peel, seed and cube the cantaloupe. Cut the grapes in half lengthwise. Drain the pineapple. Add these ingredients to a bowl.
Juice the lemon, lime and orange into a cup or small bowl.
Peel, core and cube the apple and add to the fruit mixture.
Pour the citrus juice over the fruit. (The juice will keep the apple from discoloring. That’s why you peel it after you have the juice ready.) Pour enough honey over the mixture to achieve a consistency you like.
The fruits that can be used are as varied as your supermarket’s produce department. The only essential is the cantaloupe. To adapt it for the season, add strawberries and toasted coconut in the summer or nutmeg, cinnamon and clove powder for the fall and winter. Be careful with the clove powder: it’s potent, so start with a small amount and add more to taste.
Honey Strawberries and Ice Cream
Fresh strawberries, sliced
Honey
Ice cream
Add enough honey to the strawberries to glaze them. Spoon over ice cream. I prefer Breyer’s whole-bean vanilla—it offers a nice counterpart to the strawberries.
To add a bit of novelty, include other fruits like blueberries, pineapple or grapes. Also, some coconut, pecans or slivered almonds can add a different dimension to both the flavor and texture.
Baby carrots sauteed in butter with fresh dill
Melt a few tablespoons of butter in a thick-bottomed pan. Be careful not to let the butter turn brown (turn the temperature down if it starts to smoke or turn brown). Cover the pan. Stir occasionally, but not often, as they cook. Every time you take the lid off, you’ll let heat and moisture out.
Pull the leaves off the dill and toss them on after the carrots are cooked. Add a little salt if needed.
Honey-glazed carrots
Prepare the same as above, but instead of adding dill, pour enough honey over them to give them a nice sheen.
Since there is no definitive food, Christmas is an opportunity to be creative. These are some of my ideas. They're good any time of the year, too.
Roast Pork Loin with Orange and Rosemary
Ingredients:
· 1 Pork loin of good quality
· Fresh-squeezed orange juice – ½ cup per pound of pork (use the small, cheap oranges – they generally have more flavor and more juice)
· 4 sprigs of rosemary per pound of pork (don’t even think about using dried – it has to be fresh or it’s no good)
· ¼ cup diced white onions per pound of pork
· ¼ cup olive oil (extra virgin)
· Salt (preferably sea salt)
· Black pepper (freshly cracked)
Salt and pepper the loin and rub about half the olive oil in. Toss in the orange juice, onions and rosemary. Use a pyrex baking dish. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour. It can sit overnight and will be better if it does.
Once it’s marinated, preheat a thick-bottomed steel skillet or cast iron one, add the pork and let it brown on each side. The temperature should be hot enough to caramelize the outside but not really cook the inside or make the oil smoke.
When it’s a pretty brown, take the loin out and put it back in the dish it came from.
Put the glass dish, covered, in a medium temperature oven. Cook until it’s just done. (You need a good meat thermometer for that. They’re cheap. Get one.)
When the loin is done, take it out and lay it on a plate or cutting board to rest.
Pour the dripping into the steel skillet, add a cup or so of good white wine and a couple of tablespoons of butter. (Real butter, unsalted). Gradually bring it to a boil so as not to make the butter clot, and then simmer until you have a thick sauce. Scrape the bottom of the pan regularly to incorporate the crusties into the sauce. They add a lot of flavor.
When the sauce reaches a divine consistency, take it off the heat, put the loin on a serving dish and pour the sauce over it.
Serve as medallions with some sauce atop, under or beside.
Garlic and Dill Potatoes
Ingredients:
· Red potatoes, cubed but not peeled.
· Garlic, pressed or chopped. (Don’t ever use garlic powder. It’s awful.)
· Fresh dill. Drag you fingers down against the way the leaves grow to harvest it.
· Butter (2-4 tblsp).
· Salt.
· Pepper.
Bring a pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Toss in the potatoes and let the water come back to a boil. Reduce the tempature to a low simmer. Cook until they’re tender, but no mushy.
Drain off the water or pour them through a collander and put back in your cooking pan. Add the butter, garlic and dill. Mash until they’re a consistency that you like. I like the old-fashioned hand mashers.
Salt to task and garnish with a little fresh dill.
Tarragon Green Beans
Ingredients:
· Fresh green beans, cleaned and cut to about 2 inches each
· Butter.
· Salt.
· Tarragon. (Fresh tarragon is hard to come by, but the dried is acceptable in this case. It has so much flavor you don’t need much.)
Prepare your beans by snapping off each end and pulling the string off. Wash them thoruoghly.
Bring a pot of lightly-salted water to a simmer. Add the beans and let them simmer until they’re a bright, beautiful green, cooked but still crisp. Drain the water off and add the butter and tarragon. Salt to taste.
Citrus Fruit Salad
Ingredients:
· 2 cups cantaloupe
· 1 can pineapple
· 1 cup white grapes
· 1 Granny Smith apple
· 1 lime
· 1 lemon
· 1 juice orange
· 1-1.5 cups honey
Peel, seed and cube the cantaloupe. Cut the grapes in half lengthwise. Drain the pineapple. Add these ingredients to a bowl.
Juice the lemon, lime and orange into a cup or small bowl.
Peel, core and cube the apple and add to the fruit mixture.
Pour the citrus juice over the fruit. (The juice will keep the apple from discoloring. That’s why you peel it after you have the juice ready.) Pour enough honey over the mixture to achieve a consistency you like.
The fruits that can be used are as varied as your supermarket’s produce department. The only essential is the cantaloupe. To adapt it for the season, add strawberries and toasted coconut in the summer or nutmeg, cinnamon and clove powder for the fall and winter. Be careful with the clove powder: it’s potent, so start with a small amount and add more to taste.
Honey Strawberries and Ice Cream
Fresh strawberries, sliced
Honey
Ice cream
Add enough honey to the strawberries to glaze them. Spoon over ice cream. I prefer Breyer’s whole-bean vanilla—it offers a nice counterpart to the strawberries.
To add a bit of novelty, include other fruits like blueberries, pineapple or grapes. Also, some coconut, pecans or slivered almonds can add a different dimension to both the flavor and texture.
Baby carrots sauteed in butter with fresh dill
Melt a few tablespoons of butter in a thick-bottomed pan. Be careful not to let the butter turn brown (turn the temperature down if it starts to smoke or turn brown). Cover the pan. Stir occasionally, but not often, as they cook. Every time you take the lid off, you’ll let heat and moisture out.
Pull the leaves off the dill and toss them on after the carrots are cooked. Add a little salt if needed.
Honey-glazed carrots
Prepare the same as above, but instead of adding dill, pour enough honey over them to give them a nice sheen.
25 November 2010
Thanksgiving Letter to a Dead Man
Dear Sweetie,
I miss you so much tonight. Instead of getting up at the crack of dawn and starting our dinner, I slept in, watched TV for a while and drove down to San Marcos to see my sister and her girlfriend. We had a nice, big meal, and the company was good. I even brought some left-overs home.
But it wasn’t the same as what we used to have. I didn’t get to see you waking up and smelling all the food already cooking or see the twinkle in your eye when you knew it was real and all for you. Many years, I only “put on the dog” (as you used to say) for you. I knew how much it meant to you, and I couldn’t find it in myself to deprive you of that if I could provide it.
I always knew it was important to you, but since you’ve been gone, I’ve found things that you’ve written and drawn that help me understand why. You wanted what you never had, or at least could never count on. It was a symbol of the normal, stable life you always wanted.
I miss your cackling laugh and your beautiful spirit. I miss your generosity and openness. I miss you nine ways to Sunday.
I’m moved, but not moved in. I have boxes and boxes yet to unpack. I can’t find much of anything and am fretting again about where to put every single that goes on the walls. Once again. You wouldn’t be too surprised at that, I’d imagine.
I gave your prayer cabinet to John. I also gave him some of the brass and pictures of the guru to him. He’s thrilled to have them. I thought he would be a good steward of them. I gave your tools to your brother, as well as the wedding picture of your mother you had crammed away in the guest bedroom closet. I’m going to send the pictures of Doug and Charlie to Heidi.
I also found pictures of you as a kid. I’m keeping them. You were cute, even then. By about fourteen, you’d moved from cute to hot.
I sit here thinking about all this and realize there was so much about you I’m only finding out now. Or finding out more fully.
I’m doing okay. Not great, but okay. I keep telling people I’m doing as well as can be expected, but I’m getting tired of people asking. There’s only so much sympathy I can take.
I miss you when I laugh, because I know you would laugh, too, at whatever I was laughing at. The absence of that cackle is so real that I can almost touch it. I think that’s when I miss you most.
Happy Thanksgiving. If I could, I would have made you a big old turkey with dressing and giblet gravy and everything else.
Just like you liked. Just like I liked.
Get your deserved rest. I'll see you on the other side.
18 November 2010
Namesake
When I called my mother on Monday a little after noon, she told me nephew had just been born. He had all the right parts in the right places and was learning how to use them. My sister had only delivered 15 minutes earlier, but Mama handed her cell phone to her (so she could dote on the baby, I have no doubt). She sounded awful, as I expected, so I made sure she was okay, congratulated her, told her I loved her and was thrilled to have a new nephew and let her get back to trying to recovering.
Later that afternoon when I was sitting in a restaurant having a late lunch, my phone rang. It was my mother. She told me that the baby and my sister were both sleeping. And that my baby sis had named him after me. I had to find someone in the restaurant, tell them not to take my food yet and walk outside because I didn’t want a bunch of people I didn’t know watching me cry.
I was stunned. I hadn’t talked to her about names, so I had no idea which ones she was considering. I wasn’t even sure she was thinking about names, because she was planning on giving him up for adoption. She was having a hard enough time trying to make and live with a decision about that, so I didn’t ask about names.
I talked to her that evening, but didn’t ask about adoption. I figured that, if she’d made a decision, she would have told me. Instead, I told her that if she gave him up to make keeping his name a condition of the adoption. His middle name is his useless, absent father’s middle name, but I thought it was important to him to carry some small part of his heritage with him.
Then I asked her why she named him after me and told her how honored I was. She told me that she’d only known two men who stood by her and supported her, regardless. One was our father, and the other’s me. She’d already named two kids after Daddy and said it was my turn.
That’s not to say that both Daddy and I haven’t been ticked at her over the years. But she’s the only little sister I’ll ever have. At the core, she has a big heart and a profound ability to empathize with other people. She’s made some monumentally stupid decisions in her life, but I imagine most of us have. I know I have.
I’ve been recognized for many things over the years, but none can compare to this. Some people get buildings named after them. I got a kid who’ll carry my name, misspelled the right way, into the future. It’s as close to having a kid as I’ll ever get. In a way I have an honorary son.
Baptists don’t do christenings, at least not where I come from, and I seldom hear of godparents being named up there. I guess I’m a Baptist godfather.
As ominous as that sounds, it’s not a bad thing.
She decided to keep him, by the way. A number of people were interested in taking him, but once she saw him and named him, she couldn’t give him up. I suspected as much once I found out she’d given him my name.
I called last night, and Mama was giving him his bottle. My sister and her 16 year old son are staying with her while she recovers. Mama called him “Peanut”, and I told her his name was not “Peanut”. He has a perfectly good one that she should use.
She said that they were trying to figure out how to distinguish which of us they were talking about. I live 750 miles away, and I would hope that if one of them says “Jeffery pooped in his diaper again” or “Jeffery said his first word” that they would not be confused about which of us they’re talking about.
I’ve been walking on air for the last 3 days. I’m in the middle of moving, which is its own special hell, and still mourning the loss of my partner a couple of months ago.
I’ve been dreading Thanksgiving because Shannon and I always spent it together. He insisted on a huge traditional meal every year. I made him a turkey with dressing and giblet gravy one of our first together, and he insisted on it every year afterwards, even if it was just me and him.
Going through his things since he died and I’ve been packing, I found some that let me know that his early holidays were never very good and that he longed for a traditional one centered around the family dinner table. He loved waking up and smelling food already cooking, the aromas of sage and onions and turkey filling the air.
He was as sentimental as me, and I wasn’t sure I’d have much to be thankful for this year, other than a job and a roof over my head. Now I have something much bigger.
I’m tired and bruised and worn out from the moving, but I am going to have a good Thanksgiving knowing that my baby sis thought enough of me to name her baby after me.
As I said, some people get a building named for them. I got something much bigger and infinitely more valuable: a tiny human being.
Later that afternoon when I was sitting in a restaurant having a late lunch, my phone rang. It was my mother. She told me that the baby and my sister were both sleeping. And that my baby sis had named him after me. I had to find someone in the restaurant, tell them not to take my food yet and walk outside because I didn’t want a bunch of people I didn’t know watching me cry.
I was stunned. I hadn’t talked to her about names, so I had no idea which ones she was considering. I wasn’t even sure she was thinking about names, because she was planning on giving him up for adoption. She was having a hard enough time trying to make and live with a decision about that, so I didn’t ask about names.
I talked to her that evening, but didn’t ask about adoption. I figured that, if she’d made a decision, she would have told me. Instead, I told her that if she gave him up to make keeping his name a condition of the adoption. His middle name is his useless, absent father’s middle name, but I thought it was important to him to carry some small part of his heritage with him.
Then I asked her why she named him after me and told her how honored I was. She told me that she’d only known two men who stood by her and supported her, regardless. One was our father, and the other’s me. She’d already named two kids after Daddy and said it was my turn.
That’s not to say that both Daddy and I haven’t been ticked at her over the years. But she’s the only little sister I’ll ever have. At the core, she has a big heart and a profound ability to empathize with other people. She’s made some monumentally stupid decisions in her life, but I imagine most of us have. I know I have.
I’ve been recognized for many things over the years, but none can compare to this. Some people get buildings named after them. I got a kid who’ll carry my name, misspelled the right way, into the future. It’s as close to having a kid as I’ll ever get. In a way I have an honorary son.
Baptists don’t do christenings, at least not where I come from, and I seldom hear of godparents being named up there. I guess I’m a Baptist godfather.
As ominous as that sounds, it’s not a bad thing.
She decided to keep him, by the way. A number of people were interested in taking him, but once she saw him and named him, she couldn’t give him up. I suspected as much once I found out she’d given him my name.
I called last night, and Mama was giving him his bottle. My sister and her 16 year old son are staying with her while she recovers. Mama called him “Peanut”, and I told her his name was not “Peanut”. He has a perfectly good one that she should use.
She said that they were trying to figure out how to distinguish which of us they were talking about. I live 750 miles away, and I would hope that if one of them says “Jeffery pooped in his diaper again” or “Jeffery said his first word” that they would not be confused about which of us they’re talking about.
I’ve been walking on air for the last 3 days. I’m in the middle of moving, which is its own special hell, and still mourning the loss of my partner a couple of months ago.
I’ve been dreading Thanksgiving because Shannon and I always spent it together. He insisted on a huge traditional meal every year. I made him a turkey with dressing and giblet gravy one of our first together, and he insisted on it every year afterwards, even if it was just me and him.
Going through his things since he died and I’ve been packing, I found some that let me know that his early holidays were never very good and that he longed for a traditional one centered around the family dinner table. He loved waking up and smelling food already cooking, the aromas of sage and onions and turkey filling the air.
He was as sentimental as me, and I wasn’t sure I’d have much to be thankful for this year, other than a job and a roof over my head. Now I have something much bigger.
I’m tired and bruised and worn out from the moving, but I am going to have a good Thanksgiving knowing that my baby sis thought enough of me to name her baby after me.
As I said, some people get a building named for them. I got something much bigger and infinitely more valuable: a tiny human being.
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