Love, Loss, and Cheesecake
From teaching the basics to helping with my husband’s birthday cake. (May 2023)
“Now what’s the very first thing we do in the kitchen?” This was always Grandma’s question when we went to make something together. It started as a lesson she wanted to make sure I learned, and even after years had gone by and it didn’t need to be asked anymore, it simply stuck. It was one of our things. I always proudly answered, no matter how old I got, “Wash our hands!”
Then, and only then, would we begin our culinary mission of the day. Whether it was making Pa’s favorite breakfast sandwich, a stack of pancakes (which I requested often and she never said no to), or some legendary salmon patties, I wanted to be in the kitchen with Grandma. I wanted to learn everything she knew, and she taught me.
She taught me how to scramble eggs at a young age, demonstrating her favorite method by whipping the poor unsuspecting eggs with only a fork and glass bowl. For some reason, I can still picture her doing this. It’s one of those random but vivid memories. I still scramble my eggs the exact same way, whipping the fork as quickly as I can without losing any egg over the side of the bowl (usually).
Grandmas just have a way of making the small, even mundane, things in life absolutely magical. My Grandma sure did. She loved fiercely, and all of us felt it. She died three months ago and I still somehow feel her love, like she’s just in the next room about to come give me a hug. Though there’s unspeakable pain every time I realize we’ve had our last hug, there’s also a little comfort that her love for me remains in my heart, in all the memories I hold. She gave me zero doubts about how much she loved me. I know what a blessing that is.
I spent a lot of time at Grandma and Pa’s house during the summer growing up. Monday through Friday, my mom would drop me off on her way to work and I’d spend the day with them. Only recently did my Grandma share with me the “bets” she and Pa would make each morning as I ran through their house and into the backyard where they sat and sipped their coffee. Apparently, they always tried to predict who I would run to first. I love picturing them doing this. I’ve always known they love me, but this little detail from my childhood makes that love so vibrant.
One summer, Grandma saw a recipe somewhere for a chocolate chip cheesecake. She had never made one and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Of course, as her little baking accomplice, I was totally on board. After a few days, she acquired everything we would need and we made the chocolate chip cheesecake together. Here’s another memory so robust it’s like a movie playing in my head. The first bite. Reaping the benefits of our work. Agreeing that it lived up to our expectations. And years later, up to the end of her life, the shared memory between just the two of us that’s been sweeter than the cheesecake itself.
It may sound silly, but we have reminded each other of the good ol’ chocolate chip cheesecake at least once a year since we baked it. It was a simple activity that’s had lasting impact and now it will forever be a way I remember my Grandma.
Now, it’s the teensiest details that punch me in the gut and steal my breath for a moment. Yes, it’s the way I scramble my eggs and the mere thought of the chocolate chip cheesecake. But it’s also Neutrogena Rainbath body wash and memory of Grandma lovingly wrapping me in a big fluffy robe after a bath. It’s the HGTV shows we watched together, the Friday trips to the hair salon (which the woman made it to come hell or high water), and perusing every aisle of her favorite stores. It’s the way we used to say “Later, Alligator” and “After while, Crocodile” every time I walked out the front door. (And since we’re southern, we cram the two words into afterwhile.) It’s the way that “I love you” became the first thing she would say to me when we saw each other the last few years. Like she couldn’t keep it in a single second longer. A hug and a kiss on the cheek and an “I love you” that didn’t hold back. That’s just who she was.
As I continue with my life and try to wrap my mind around the idea that my time with her is over, I’m trying to hold onto the memories. The details that pop up and make me think of her. The person she was, and the love she gave me. The things she taught me and the way she shaped me.
And hey, maybe eventually I’ll bake another chocolate chip cheesecake and savor it for the both of us.