Missing my favorite turkeys

 It is impossible for me to think of holidays and not think of the two of you. I simply love this picture. Typical Joe face. Excited to cut the bird. And you behind him so excited. Does life get any better? Nope. You came up in conversation tonight. The night you left us. I sometimes wonder what the last meal you made was. The last ingredient. The last thing you wrapped. The last thing you prepared. It’s somewhat dark but also just makes me realize how you helped us survive. And well, all those days slicing lunch meat for sandwiches for kids lunches, work lunches, cakes from the bakery, your work to feed. That’s so important. Tonight I saw all the food we brought. I thought about how much you loved cooking (crying as a type this). It was truly your office. I remember getting cheese in Southwest. A dip in the pickle juice. Remember Manoa, seeing the woman you worked with. I remember the shore. I wonder how many people at food you prepared. I remember helping you with your LinkedIn and how much experience you really did have. I don’t remember the last meal you made for me and that bothers me. It was probably a sandwich. Something simple. Maybe from the Bitty. Maybe a ham and cheese sandwich we ate on the beach with some soda and some sand in it. Like we did 30 years before with Mom Mom and Pop Pop and some small glass Pepsi’s. Maybe it was a dream and if it was, a great dream at that.   




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