Comfort Food

This past week my Grandma died. It wasn't too sudden but it still took me by surprise, like death usually does. One of the last things I bought for her was a box of Zebra Cakes because apparently she ate them like a fiend. My uncle had bought her a few boxes (yes, boxes, not individual cakes) a few months ago and apparently she polished them off in a matter of days. Anywho, Grandma ended up being on a restricted diet lately and being the good granddaughter that I am I decided to eat the Zebra Cakes myself. I don't like to make a habit of eating before bed but after a long day I would crawl into bed with a book, a crossword and a pack of those little dudes and munch a little before bed. Make no mistake--these are not a fine pastry or delicacy. In fact, they have a cloyingly sweet aftertaste of something not quite natural. But I ate them anyway, thinking of Grandma as I munched and laughing to myself, thinking of her munching away as well, perhaps while watching the Golden Girls.

It's been a pretty crappy week all in all but one thing that has remained constant is the food: the massive amounts of food that have been showing up at Grandma's house, my family's house, the luncheon after the funeral, etc. M mentioned in an earlier post how hard it is to cook for one and how much better the food tastes when you have people to share it with. Food and comfort seem to just go together, it's the most natural response I can think of when I want to show someone how much I care about them. Sure, it takes more time than is necessary to whip up a batch of cookies (measuring, baking, cleaning, the whole nine yards) but that's the point. It takes a long time and generally (if you're doing it right) you're thinking about the recipient most of the time. And even though I've been really sad lately, not eating is the last thing Grandma would have wanted, as evidenced by the bulldozed boxes of Zebra Cakes :)

Thanks to all for the food, prayers and love.