c.
2019 Rod Ice
All
rights reserved
(3-19)
Comfort
food. Dad’s elixir and sustenance.
A
recent southern trip let us reconnect with Mom, at the Mansfield
Place nursing home in Philippi, West Virginia. In the beginning, she
gave us life with her body. Now, widowed and displaced from the
family household, her wellness had become our charge. But while
visiting with my sister and nephew, a familiar disposition took hold.
I could hear the voice of my father echoing from eternity. Helping us
relieve the worry.
“You
need to eat!”
We
followed this admonition in a timely manner, by purchasing pepperoni
rolls at the local Shop ‘n Save. In particular, a variety baked
with spicy and delicious hot-pepper cheese. This snack kept us fed
well, during the visit.
At
the long-term-care facility, Mom’s stories were plentiful. A
mixture of childhood memories from the 1930’s, seasoned with modern
characters from church, and fellow residents of the home. In her
mind, everything existed in harmony. Yesterday and today, here and
there, darkness and light. In a sense, she had gained the
enlightenment of Buddha, that all things are undeniably
interconnected. We had learned to negate fear and sorrow with joy in
the moment. To listen and take comfort in her wellness. To occupy our
spot in the continuum.
“As
a net is made up of a series of ties, so everything in this world is
connected by a series of ties. If anyone thinks that the mesh of a
net is an independent, isolated thing, he is mistaken. It is called a
net because it is made up of a series of interconnected meshes, and
each mesh has its place and responsibility in relation to other
meshes.” - Gautama Buddha
Dad
had cared for her over the years, during his own physical decline.
Fortified with study material in addition to coffee and bologna
sandwiches. His resolve to remain focused was bolstered by the simple
tastes of rural cuisine and love itself. Now, our turn had come.
After
hearing more tales of the bygone McCray household, and chattering
away about grandchildren and pets, we had retired to our motel for
rest. But then, the sunrise captured our attention with gleaming hope
for another day. Golden rays sparkled over the roof of a nearby
eatery, the Philippi Inn.
I
could hear Dad once again. “Let your appetite guide the way!”
Their
menu boasted many traditional options for the morning. Steak &
Eggs initially sounded appealing to my grumbling belly. But then I
spotted their ‘Country Breakfast.’ A generous plate of biscuits &
gravy served with another platter carrying eggs, bacon or sausage
links, hash browns and toast.
Sister
chose the biscuits and gravy, alone. But my nephew decided to accept
this culinary challenge with gusto. He also ordered the out-sized
breakfast. When our waitress had brought everything to the table, it
made a banquet worthy of Instagram. I took a few iPhone pictures,
before lifting my fork. Then, our feast began!
Back
at Mansfield Place, several residents were playing a balloon game,
with foam ‘noodles’ for bats. Mom was more interested in the
television. Yet when we arrived, our conversation from the previous
day restarted. She spoke about advice given from her father, who had
passed away in the 1950’s. Remembering each word as if he had just
uttered them in another room. I attempted to capture the moment with
my iPhone. Finally, my sister took the device to get a selfie.
As
she looked over Mom’s shoulder, I was struck by a mood of patience
and calm. As if Dad still protected his bride through us, his heirs
and helpers.
On
the way home to Ohio, I still felt full from breakfast. I reckoned
that Dad would be proud of our meal and the visit to Mountaineer
Country. A tribute to family traditions that had endured over many
years. Where the kitchen remained a chapel of sorts, a place to
celebrate life, one plate at a time.
Mom
had graduated into a twilight world where here and the hereafter were
united. Where those who had passed over remained real and connected,
as were those of us who shared her day. This vantage point seemed
curious and strange at first. But with a bit of philosophical
awareness, and a taste of sausage gravy over biscuits, all was well
in our world.
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