I lost my grandmother a few months ago. At the very advanced age of 92, she had certainly lived a long life, and had suffered from dementia for many years. . .and so on the surface, her passing was a blessing. But still it hurt. Because in spite of all her flaws, she was a wonderful influence for good in my young life. She loved me fiercely, unconditionally, and tangibly. And still this many months later, I miss her. Despite the fact that I rarely saw her in her later years and when I did visit, she usually didn’t know who I was, something about the finality of her death still tore my heart. . .
For me, a part of grieving is remembering. . .and there are many happy memories of her that I want to intentionally bring forward into the lives of my children. This morning was one such opportunity. It was nothing profound at all, just a simple breakfast recipe, but it filled my heart to talk to my oldest daughter about my Nana as I went about preparing cinnamon toast made in the oven. It was always my favorite breakfast at her house, delicious and buttery. She had a certain way of preparing it that got the butter all the way to the edges of the bread. . .and covered both sides. The ultimate comfort food. And as I melted the butter and brushed it on with a small basting brush, I could almost feel her smiling over my shoulder. The girls loved it and begged for more, declaring it the yummiest cinnamon toast they’d ever tasted. My big girl said she wants to pass the “recipe” on to her littles one day, which made me smile. She’s such a soft-hearted little girl.
So as I sit here blogging about cinnamon toast this morning, the warm scent of buttery cinnamon sugar hangs in the air and if I close my eyes, I can see my Nana’s wrinkled, smiling face and hear her humming in the kitchen. I’d call that a blessing. Knowing we can’t keep those that we love so much with us forever on this earth, it’s nice to know that they live on so vividly in our hearts. . .and lovely to bring shades of her forward into the hearts of my children.