Remembering Fabianne: A Daughter in Her Mother’s Kitchen

Remembering Fabianne: A Daughter in Her Mother’s Kitchen

Jen and I with Blossom Cupcakes!

“You’ve got to do this, Jen,” I said, “in fact, you must.”

It’s a cold Friday night and Jen and I are sitting in an empty deli stirring small cups of soup.  We are talking about death and loss and the conversation turns to the aftermath of her mother’s passing.

While sorting through her mother’s belongings, Jen found volumes of spiral bound notebooks (each book filled with handwritten recipes) created and curated by her mother.

We talk about tastes and smells from our childhood — the memories that always seem to linger on our palates.  As she shares some of her favorite dishes, Jen says she is going to attempt her mother’s recipes.  Perhaps by cooking her way through the cookbooks, she could find the comfort and solace we all yearn for during a loss.

As we talk, I ask how she would feel about journaling her experience, then quickly shift the idea into a blog.  Within an hour, we are back at my house, tapping away on a keyboard and publishing Remembering Fabianne’s Kitchen.

Jen with her sweet husband, John

Jen’s blog may not be the most glamorous, popular or exciting site out there — but it comes straight from the heart.  It has a soft, easy, pace to it, slowly releasing emotion, experience and re-collection with every post.

Whenever death happens — suddenly, un-expectedly, or eventually — it’s natural to try and rationalize what is happening.  Many of us find a need to put things in order, an attempt to organize the range of emotions we feel.  This is not wrong, in fact, it’s well within our survival instincts and tendencies.  What is wrong is to rush the process, to jump to conclusions, or to take rash actions to quickly move past the pain.

I admire Jen, my beautiful friend, for organizing her thoughts, for addressing the past and for allowing us to share this experience.  Grief, fortunately, is something we never need to carry alone.

To you, Jen, I say: soldier on.  You have friends who care for you and will support you in your journey. We’re ready to remember Fabianne whenever you want.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: