Layers

 

    In preparation for our first Christmas without Mom, I found myself spending a great deal of time in her kitchen. It was comforting to be there--to feel her presence as I made lists, plans and memories. Even while attempting to make new memories, the old ones encircled me and made me laugh and cry intermittently, sometimes simultaneously.

     Bruce and I attended church with Dad on Christmas Eve. We were surrounded by the familiar faces of family and friends that were part of our history together as a couple and the Johnson family history since long before that. There was, however, an empty space in the family pew. I sat by myself for a while watching as Dad, Bruce and his brother sang with the choir. I knew how proud Mom would have been to see her husband and boys standing shoulder to shoulder and singing songs of joy and praise. She would have lead in the impromptu and almost improper--by Lutheran standards--round of applause that followed the performance. Instead, a small boy sitting behind me, started clapping and I knew that Mom was smiling.

     We went to a restaurant after the service. The food was good. The atmosphere was quiet and pleasant. It felt strange to be there though--to be out and about celebrating among strangers. I longed to be back at Mom and Dad's preparing her recipes, in her kitchen. I needed the spiritual hug which that place and those memories provide me every time I am there.

     I breathed a sigh of contentment later that evening as I began to prepare the Sausage Strata that would be our breakfast the next morning. The recipe came from the church cookbook but, as was often the case, Mom had changed it up a bit. She added some bread, subtracted some of the sausage and changed the cheese from Swiss to cheddar. She did not alter the directions that called for the layering of the various ingredients, the very thing that gave the dish its name "strata."

      I placed the bread, the sausage and then the cheese into the familiar Pyrex baking dish that had held so many other breakfast casseroles. Finally, I topped it with the egg and milk mixture. The layers of flavor and the changes made by Mom to the strata would yield, I knew, something special.

     Our holiday season has been made up of layers as well. We have kept some of the same traditions and we have added some new ones. We have experienced the emptiness of loss combined with the blessing of shared memories. Tears of grief, relief and joy have topped off these life layers. The result will also be, I know, something special.