The unspoken value of freedom, friends, and good flavors.Chicken / April 7, 2015
Last week we ended an era. A 27 month era to be exact. It was a quiet ending, without fanfare, parades or even an audible woop, woop. Instead of a celebration, it was welcomed with hugs, tears, and family as we quietly moved my husband’s mother into a Home so she could be cared for by professionals, during her last stages of dementia.
There really is no way to verbalize what you go through when caring for someone who must suffer through the incomparable symptoms of this cruel disease and it is full of opposites. For instance, it is so quiet being a caretaker, like an echoing chamber of secrets filled with random forgetfulness and vanishing memories. And because you cannot go anywhere like you used to, devoid of the sound of life.
And then it is also noisy, even deafening as you wade through the daily ritual of TV, repeating commands, and the incessant symphony of fear. Everything seems to be vibrating with tragedy, and on some days, hopelessness.
I started this blog in the beginning of our journey as caretakers, knowing I’d need a creative outlet at home to see me through the noise and the silence. I had no idea how right I was. It has saved me. And as you can see, posts have slowed down to a crawl over the last three or four months as her condition has worsened. That is why, when we saw her embraced by the wonderful people who now care for her and watched the smiles on their faces as they assured us everything would be okay, I knew to heal myself I would have to start cooking again.
There are only a few things true in the world. Love, kindness, and the comfort of doing what you love to show kindness. That is what cooking is for me.
I won’t narrate the culinary journey this time. Only a few snapshots and the recipes to go along with them for you to try. And a little advice. You never know when your next trial will arrive. But remember, it comes with a round trip ticket. Eventually it will end, and you, well you will be okay.