I made beans this week. I’m not sure what sparked this “event” as I am the only person in my house that likes beans. I’m also referring to this as an “event” because I’m pretty certain I haven’t made beans in a year…maybe longer.
The whole process is somewhat nostalgic. My childhood was filled with memories of making beans. It was actually a regular chore in the summer. My Mom would write it on the daily to-do list alongside vacuuming and dusting. I can still see the list…her handwriting on the backside of an envelope.
As I live with grief, I’ve been searching for answers to help the process. Mostly, I’ve been disappointed. Nothing really helps. The one thing that seems to bring some peace is the idea of doing things that remind you of the people you’ve loved and lost. While it’s not painless, there’s honor in keeping a loved one’s memory alive in this way. So as I sort the beans, rinse and season, boil and then simmer (all through a few tears and sniffles), I feel connected.
Connection feels better than loss.
Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.
Empty Chairs, Everywhere 