Calling on the power of "lasagna"

It's been a rough week at the house. I picked D up from his truck, so excited. The five weeks he's been gone has been rough on both of us. I passed the time by taking care of the dogs, hanging out with friends, and taking massive doses of antibiotics. He passed the time by driving thousands of miles, thinking about how hard it is to be gone, and navigating a morass of new policies, procedures, and politics. I think I had it easier. 

Re-entry has been hard.  His story is his story, and maybe one day he will tell it to you, but for now, all I can say is I've been making tea, cooking favorite dishes, and feeling helpless in the wake of a tsunami of emotion that I didn't expect. 5 weeks is too long to be gone, and I can't imagine how my friend in a military family holds down the fort for months at a time.

Veggie Lasagna

A few years ago, one of my good friend's kids experienced a great, incomprehensible loss. The spouse had died, and my friend traveled thousands of miles to be with her adult child. In the face of the grief and the loss, my friend felt helpless, and she did the only thing that she knew to do. She made lasagna.

Layer by layer, she built the dish, and she told me, as she built it, it became something other than lasagna. She became something beyond herself. She made "the lasagna," the archetype of comfort, as did she became, "the mother."  She became the vessel for all the power of those two words. All the comfort, all the hugs, all the love, couldn't fix that loss. The only thing that she could do was be with her child.

Our house is having a "lasagna moment." Instead of lasagna, its early thanksgiving dishes (mushroom gravy, roasted tofu, stuffing, and mashed potatoes), apple pancakes, spaghetti and vegan sausages, tofu scramble, home fries, pineapple upside down cake, mushroom Cornish pasties, and chocolate cupcakes with coconut whip cream.

I can't make this better. I can't make this easier. I can only write love letters with the tools I have left. I can only be there as things get scarier and scarier.

D. This is the bottom, darling. There's no place to go, but up. I love you, my sweet, and I'll love you forever.

Source