More Family Recipes

Not much has changed in the last two years since I wrote Family Recipes.

I am 37, I still haven’t run a marathon, and I have kept writing things down.

But also everything has changed since I wrote that.

My grandma has since passed away.

Last week Friday, my grandma passed away.

She passed away.

My grandma died. She died on my mom’s birthday.

She passed away.

One of my best friends passed away.

She left.

She’s gone.

No matter how or how many times I say it, write it, think it, it never actually makes it to my brain. It just sinks, deep into the pit of my stomach where the grief lives and manifests itself as nausea and sometimes overflows and rises to the surface, coming out as tears.

I have been crying like I have never cried before.

But crying is alright. It is a sign that I am here and I am feeling.

Someone somewhere once said something about saltwater as salve: sweat, ocean, and tears.

I haven’t written much down about grief, loss, loneliness. While there has, of course, been death in our family, it is a difficult thing to talk about. And advice on grief is never a one size fits all solution. The how-to guide to losing a loved one is not as nostalgic as our pasta sauce, ravioli, Easter bread, or wedding soup recipes.

Thankfully, other people have been able to share. Friends, family members, strangers, and even some famous folks have shared their thoughts on grief so we can connect and find our way.

Actor Andrew Garfield once said in an interview about the death of his mother, “I hope this grief stays with me because it’s all the unexpressed love that I didn’t get to tell her. This is all the unexpressed love, the grief that will remain with us until we pass because we never get enough time with each other, no matter if someone lives ’til 60, 15, or 99.” Or in my grandma’s case, 87.

Similarly, Ocean Vuong said in an interview about his poetry collection “Time is a Mother,” “You realize that grief is perhaps the last and final translation of love. And I think, you know, this is the last act of loving someone. And you realize that it will never end. You get to do this to translate this last act of love for the rest of your life.”

So while I don’t have much more to say about this today, I will keep grieving, connecting, and finding my way. And I will keep walking and thinking of her. Eventually, I’ll start writing everything down again. And I will keep my promise to pass down the family recipes.