Mother’s Day

A few memories of my mom during her last few weeks

Preparedness

Right after we got to New Orleans there was a threat of a major hurricane coming our way. I was freaking out and trying to figure out how to prep for it. I had no idea what kind of food to buy – I didn’t know what would last for seven days without refrigeration that I'd actually want to eat. But not my mom. She knew.

She was very sick already (though I didn’t know it), so from her bed she ordered a bunch of ready made meals (kinda like MREs), canned soup, canned fruit, pudding, etc. Sure, maybe her list seems simple enough, but when I asked my millennial friends what food to stock up on, people asked what kind of stove I had. They suggested pickling things on my own. People said dried beans. We woulda starved.

See, my mom was born in the 1950s–she knew packaged food, and she was a girl scout– she knew how to survive.

Luckily the hurricane missed us. Two years later I still have most of the food. If it’s still good or not, I won’t open it or throw it away. A couple times people have eaten the chicken soup that she ordered. Who ever thought a can of soup would bring tears to my eyes.

Cooking

Cindy could follow a recipe. She had the patience to follow any recipe to a T. Not me, not really. Though I can if I try really hard. Anyway, the last thing she made for me to eat was some sort of taco casserole that she found a recipe for online. Again, she must have been pretty sick when she made it because she died just a few weeks later. Anyway, I didn't think I'd like that taco hot dish, but I did. Corn tortillas, ground beef, cheese, and some other stuff. It looked dry, basic. Well, it was delicious and I ate it everyday for lunch that week until it was gone. I hope she knows I loved it. Wherever she is.

Her cell phone

I still can't accept that I won't be able to call her again. I get no barrage of texts anymore, getting more and more terse as she got more and more annoyed with me for the amount of time it took me to respond. So two years later I still pay for it. I haven’t even suspended the number. Sometimes I turn it on to look at the pictures she took. Somehow I think I’ll find something that will tell me something new about her. I want to see the stuff that made her happy.

God I miss her.