The Long Goodbye

Nothing prepared me for the loss of my mother. Even knowing that she would die did not prepare me. A mother, after all, is your entry into the world. She is the shell in which you divide & become a life. Waking up in a world without her is like waking up in a world without sky: unimaginable. And because my mother was relatively young -64- I feel robbed of 20 years with her I'd always imagined having.
In the months that followed my mother's death, I managed to look like a normal person. But I was not ok. I was in grief. Nothing seemed important. Daily tasks were exhausting. At one point, I did not wash my hair for 10 days. I felt that I had abruptly arrived at a terrible, insistent truth about the impermanence of the everyday. Why had I not known that this was what life really amounted to?
I was not entirely surprised to find that being a mourner was lonely. But I was surprised to discover that I felt lost. In the days following my mother's death, I did not know what I was supposed to do, nor, it seemed, did my friends & family, especially those who had never suffered a similar loss. And I found no relief in that worn-out refrain that at least my mother was "no longer suffering".
Mainly, I thought one thing: My mother is dead & I want her back.
When we talk about love, we go back to the start. But this is the story of an ending, of death, & it has no beginning. That's what makes her a mother: you cannot start the story.
There is my mother, & then, suddenly, there is her cancer. It begins with a phone call, a scan, a shock. Disbelief reigns. There would be no surgery. The disease had spread too far.
If the condition of grief is nearly universal, it's transactions are exquisitely personal. My grief, I know, has been shaped by the particular person my mother was to me, and by the fact that she died at 64 (the same age my father was when he died). Then, too, I was bound up with her in ways that strecthed beyond our relationship. I now live in the house where I grew up. I always see things that remind me of her.
As I write this, I am hit by a feeling of error, a sense that during my early twenties, when I thought my mother never quiter understood me, it was I who saw her incompletely. I took for granted so many of her seemingly casual qualities.
So much of dealing with a disease is waiting. Except in the waiting you keep forgetting that "it" will really happen - it's more like a threat, an anxiety. Other people got used to my mother dying of cancer. But I did not. Each day, sunlight came like a knife to a wound that was not healed.
Those were strange, delirious days.They'd give her morphine for the pain, but the moment they got it under control, it would intensify, & she'd begin moaning again. When she did wake she was irritable. I kept asking the nurses to give her more morphine. And the nurse said "If she's in hospice, they'll give her more drugs, they'll minimize her pain, but she might die."
I heard a lot about the idea of dying "with dignity" while my mother was sick. It was only near her very end that I gave much thought to what this idea meant. I didn't actually feel it was undignified for my mother's body to fail - that was the human condition. Having to help my mother on & off the toilet was difficult, but it was natural. The real indignity, it seemed, was dying where no one cared for you the way your family should, dying where it was hard for your family to be with you & where excessive measures might be taken to keep you alive past a moment that called for letting go. I didn't want that for my mother. I didn't want to pretend she wasn't going to die.
"Hey baby!"
These are the last words I hear her say. Then she closes her eyes again. Instead of words there comes a horrible pain - pain of a kind I have never witnessed, a shuddering, bone-deep pain that swallows her up whenever the hospice nurse moves her or washes her or when we roll her on her side to change her & get her blood circulating.
In the last few days, she begins to look very young. Her face has lost so much weight, the bones show through like a child's. I hold her hand. I smooth her face. Her skin has begun to feel waxy; my fingers slide dully over it.
As she dies, she opens her eyes, looks at us, & takes one final rattling breath. She has chosen to look at us, to say "Goodbye, I love you, goodbye".
I think she had the most beautiful smile in the world. And she was very warm to lie next to, soft, like a blanket.
And so we sat with my mother's body, holding her hands. I kept touching her face, which was rubbery but still hers, feeling morbid as I did it, but feeling, too, that it was strange that I should think so. This was my mother. For 20 minutes she was warm & she didn't look dead. She didn't look alive either. But she didn't have the glazed, absent expression I had expected. Her being seemed present. I could feel it hovering at the ceiling of the room, changing, but not gone. In a daze, I said goodbye. I kissed my mother's forehaed - waxy, the way it had been for days now. I said, "You were very brave, & I love you".
What had actually happened still seemed implausible: A person was present your entire life, & then one day she disappeared & never came back. It resisted belief. Even when a death is foreseen, I was surprised to find, it still feels sudden - an instant that could have gone differently.
A death from a long illness is different from a sudden death. I have experienced both of those with each of my parents. It gives you time to say goodbye & time to adjust to the idea that the beloved will not be with you anymore. A friend said that my mother's death had surely been easier to bear because I had known it was coming. I almost bit her head off! Easier to bear compared to what?
It is human to want our friends & family to recover from pain, to look for a silver lining - or so I reminded myself. But when people stop mentioning the dead person's name to you, the silence can seem worse than the pain of hearing those familiar, beloved syllables. After a loss, you have to learn to believe the dead one is dead. It doesn't come naturally.
In the weeks after my mother's death, I experienced an acute nostalgia. This longing for a lost time was so intense I thought it might split me in two. I was consukmed by memories of seemingly trivial things.
She is gone, & I will be, too, one day. There is nothing "fixed" about my grief. I don't have the same sense that I'm sinking into the ground with every step I take. But there aren't any "conclusions" I can come to, other than personal ones. I'm more at peace because that old false sense of the continuity of life has returned.
I think about my mother every day, but not as concertedly as I used to. She crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye. I think about all the things I never said along the way, about how much her example meant to me. The bond between a mother & a child is so unlike any other that it is categorically irreplaceable.

Chicken Creole

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 onion, thinly sliced
1 stalk celery, sliced thin
1 green bell pepper, minced
2 (16 ounce) cans diced tomatoes
1 bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts
Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the garlic, onion, celery and bell pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until tender (about 4 minutes). Add the tomatoes, bay leaf, salt and cayenne pepper. Cook this Creole sauce 3 minutes longer, stirring often.
Arrange the chicken breasts in an 8 x 11 inch baking dish. Pour the Creole sauce over the chicken.
Bake 15 to 20 minutes, until the chicken is tender and white throughout.

Deviled Crab

Ingredients

1 3/4 pounds crabmeat
1/8 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
3/4 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
1 cup dry bread crumbs
4 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups clam juice
1/2 cup white wine
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup fresh parsley, minced
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh basil, minced
Directions

In a mixing bowl, place the crabmeat, salt, Worcestershire sauce, and hot pepper sauce. Mix thoroughly.
Shape the crab mixture into cakes and roll in bread crumbs.
In a medium skillet, heat 4 tablespoons of oil over medium heat. Saute the cakes about 5 minutes. Turn, then cook for another 5 minutes or until golden brown.
For the sauce: In a 1.5 quart saucepan, heat the 1 tablespoon of oil and 1 tablespoon of butter. slowly add the flour to the oil, stirring constantly. Cook for 5 minutes.
Slowly add the clam juice, whisking constantly and vigorously. Pour in white wine, black pepper, and crushed red pepper flakes. Bring to a simmer. Then add cream, parsley, and basil. Simmer, but do not boil. Mixture is done when thick enough to evenly coat the back of a spoon.
Serve the sauce over the crab cakes.

Chicken Milano

Ingredients

1 tablespoon butter
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
1 cup chicken broth, divided
1 cup heavy cream
1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
8 ounces dry fettuccini pasta
Directions

In a large saucepan over low heat, melt butter; add garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Add the tomatoes and 3/4 cup of the chicken broth; increase to medium heat and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, for about 10 minutes or until the tomatoes are tender. Add the cream and bring to a boil; stirring. Simmer over medium heat until the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
Sprinkle the chicken with salt and pepper on both sides. In a large skillet over medium heat, warm oil and saute chicken. Press on chicken occasionally with a slotted spatula. Cook for about 4 minutes per side or until the meat feels springy and is no longer pink inside. Transfer to a board; cover and keep warm. Discard the fat from the skillet.
In the same skillet, over medium heat, bring 1/4 cup chicken broth to a boil; stirring the pan juices. Reduce slightly and add to the cream sauce; stir in basil and adjust seasonings to taste.
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add fettuccine and cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until al dente; drain, transfer to a bowl and toss with 3 to 4 tablespoons of the sauce.
Cut each chicken breast into 2 to 3 diagonal slices. Reheat the sauce gently if needed. Transfer the pasta to serving plates; top with chicken and coat with the cream sauce; serve.

Iced Pumpkin Cookies

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cups white sugar
1 cup canned pumpkin puree
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups confectioners' sugar
3 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, and salt; set aside.
In a medium bowl, cream together the 1/2 cup of butter and white sugar. Add pumpkin, egg, and 1 teaspoon vanilla to butter mixture, and beat until creamy. Mix in dry ingredients. Drop on cookie sheet by tablespoonfuls; flatten slightly.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes in the preheated oven. Cool cookies, then drizzle glaze with fork.
To Make Glaze: Combine confectioners' sugar, milk, 1 tablespoon melted butter, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Add milk as needed, to achieve drizzling consistency.

Catfish Tuscany

Ingredients

4 (4 ounce) fillets catfish
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons butter, softened
1 1/2 tablespoons mayonnaise
4 roma tomatoes or sun-dried tomatoes, sliced thin
Directions

Preheat broiler to 500 degrees. Coat a broiling pan with nonstick cooking spray. Brush both sides of fillets with lemon juice, and then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place fillets flat side up on prepared pan.
In a small bowl, mix Parmesan cheese, butter, and mayonnaise.
Broil fish about 4 inches from heat for 6 minutes. Remove pan from oven, and turn fillets over. Spread the cheese mixture evenly over each fillet. Top with tomato slices. Broil an additional 4 to 6 minutes, or until fish flakes easily with a fork.

Bacon Wrapped Bratwurst

Ingredients

4 bratwurst
3 (12 ounce) cans light beer
5 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
6 slices bacon, cut in half
Directions

Poke bratwurst several times with a small fork, and place into a saucepan with the beer. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium, and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove the bratwurst from the beer, and allow to cool to room temperature.
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C). Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, and place a wire rack on top.
Toss the brown sugar and cayenne pepper together in a large bowl and set aside. Cut each bratwurst into three pieces, wrap each piece with half strip of bacon, and secure with a toothpick. Toss the bratwurst with the cayenne mixture to coat, then place onto the prepared baking sheet.
Bake in preheated oven until the bacon is brown and crisp, 25 to 35 minutes.