Grieving in the Kitchen

So.

My husband’s best friend died last week. He died suddenly after a brief illness, from which he appeared to be recovering. He died before I got a chance to see him in the hospital, even though he asked about me. I’ve heard a lot of how highly he thought of me and I hope he didn’t think I didn’t care. Because I did.

So.

We buried my husband’s best friend today. There were so many things I wanted to say but didn’t know if I should. His wife didn’t approve of any of his friends, especially my husband and, tangentially, me. She had never met me before the wake, but she made her opinion of me known. Based on what, I’m really not sure and I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.

So.

My husband’s best friend is dead and we are grieving. Teach is grieving by not grieving and constantly talking about how he’s not grieving and how he’s waiting for the storm to hit. I’m waiting, too. In the meantime, I’m grieving by revisiting a bunch of recipes that I used to make all the time. My husband’s best friend was a chef and it seems fitting that I’m retreating to the kitchen to bake away my grief. Of course, Teach will not partake of any of my creations as he has lost over 80 pounds since our wedding in July 2006 and I’ve made the conscious decision to not cut calories on any of these recipes. I’m making them the way they were written, the way I used to make them before I worried about fat and calories and cholesterol.

So.

Let the baking, and the grieving, and hopefully, the healing, begin.