4 months

ago a very dear friend died, suddenly and unexpectedly.

Yesterday, as I finished up the last of his prize-winning salsa, I realized that I am still struggling to deal with his death. I had pulled the jar out of the fridge and, in doing so, noticed his handwritten label on the lid. For no reason and many reasons, I suddenly was in another place and time, laughing, talking, being bitten by his horrid dog, and eating his marvelous minestrone.

The memory was so clear, the voices so present, that it brought tears to my eyes. I smelled the soup, tasted the bread, heard the kids in the other room... I was there, once again, even if only in my mind and only for a short interval of time.

My dear friend, I don't know if you know how much we miss you. You were the very heart of a widespread circle of friends from many backgrounds and outlooks. You brought us together with your humor, your can-do attitude, and that marvelous food. Do you know that your mother took me under her wing at your funeral and brought me right into your family circle? She had never met me but treated me as one of her own, an Italian mama to the core, just as you always said. I know now from whom you learned your life-skills, to my delight. Also to my great regret for I find myself wishing I could have met her years ago.

I miss you, indeed I do. I suppose, in time, memory will fade, but for now... let it just be said that there is a large and empty place in my pantry where there should be a jar of a beloved friend's salsa.