Posts Tagged: Mom

Missing Mom

It’s been sixteen months since my mom died. The changing seasons seem to bring a renewed sadness as those markers of change go by unremarked by my mom. There is no scent of cinnamon baking in her kitchen. No comment on the colors. Not normally a football fan, she always enjoyed it when Northwestern would beat a Big 10 powerhouse. Her canned tomatoes have not been put up for the year. Talk of the cool weather is not forthcoming. She doesn’t drive out Grand Traverse Penisula and park her car at the point where one can see both bays. She’s a story. A memory. A feeling.

Last of Mom’s Canned Goods

Green tomato relish, tomato sauce, bread and butter pickles.

Last night I cleaned out the cupboards and found the last three jars of canned goods my mom gave me. If we eat them, then they’re gone, then another piece of Mom is somehow gone. There will be no more care packages or dusty jars set aside for an overdue visit home. But why save them? My mom loved to share food with people. She loved to feed people. She understood how people come together both in the making and eating of food.

For now, they sit on the shelf, a reminder, and an inspiration. Perhaps my family and I can take over the tradition and put up cans of tomatoes, relish, and preserves.