My daughter called me early this morning. She had just gotten sad news. Her friend’s little child had died. There is probably nothing harder in life than the death of your child. There are no words for this kind of loss.

I listened to my daughter and asked how I could help her. I offered to cook dinner tonight to take that responsibility off of her plate. I suggested that she buy some teas and some fruit and just leave a gift basket with a card on the front porch of her friend’s home.

I had to try and do something myself to process the grief. I knew this little human too. She was precious.

We all have people in our lives that die. We all have to process all the emotions that flood us when we encounter loss.

The way I dealt with it this morning was to plant some bulbs. They will bloom in the Spring. They will remind me of the beauty that the little child who died today brought to each one of us who had the fortune to get to know her.

When you don’t know what else to do, just plant something.

I ‘d  been stalling. I made up one excuse after another. Finally, my hand was forced after eight years. An appraiser was coming to the house. I had to deal with this.

My friend Eric had hung himself in the bedroom of my apartment over the garage. My brother found him for me; after I begged, explaining that Eric was very uncharacteristically not answering my phone calls. (Eric and I were very close.)

My brother was really mad at me over having to find Eric’s dead body and he stayed mad for years until Robin Williams (my brother’s all-time favorite ) hung himself.

My brother finally peaced-out.

Together, just last week, we climbed up the stairs and went into the room. The coroner had done the initial dirty work but I needed to empty out the room and get rid of all of Eric’s old things. We loved to cook together and he had some of my old cookbooks mixed in with his.

Going through his things was like visiting with him. I saw his hand-writing on a piece of paper and for a terrifying nanosecond wondered if it was a note for me. It wasn’t.

But this was painful in a way that I cannot explain. It hurt in a place that I didn’t know could ache. Now, finally, after eight long years, I have finally said goodbye.

I am no longer hung up.

NOTE: I originally posted this in 2014. I dreamt about Eric last night. My heart still aches. This tragedy was in Sept of 2006. It felt like visiting with him while I read this again. I guess I am still trying to say goodbye. Maybe I am still hung up.

I just walked to the store with Mary. She wanted to buy raisins to make bread pudding. Her granddaughter had made her something to eat with rice and mushrooms (risotto). She wanted to return the container with a treat inside.

Mary fell in love with Bread Pudding while she was boarding during her school years. The family she lived with also housed some of the employees of the Canadian Pacific Railroad. The lady of the house was a great cook. Prior to cooking at her home for the boarders, she had cooked for the Railroad. The man of the house worked for the railroad too. He was an engineer.

Every Sunday, there was something for dessert. Mary enjoyed eating the bread pudding but what she really loved was the way it smelled when it was cooking.

Her own mother was a good baker and made great pies, but she did not make Bread Pudding. Bread Pudding makes sense as a Sunday dessert. It’s the end of the week and there’s probably stale bread.

The Railroad workers were always hungry. It was labor intensive, hard work. Bread pudding is filling.

The history highlight of our conversation had to do with royalty. In 1939 King George VI and Queen Elizabeth toured Canada. This was the first time the monarchs had come to Canada. They traveled by train from Quebec City 2,236 miles cross the county to Vancouver.

She told me that her friend did not cook for the King and Queen. None of the railroad employees cooked for the King and Queen. They traveled with their own chefs.

They went to Vancouver to try to catch a glimpse of King and Queen. She said the streets along the railways were packed with curious, excited onlookers. She still has the little flag that she waved as they train passed by.

She also fell in love with Railroads. She has ridden trains, including steam driven trains all over Canada and the US. I told her I had been on a few of them in Colorado, the Durango to Silverton run and the Cumbres and Toltec run, which is the longest narrow-gauge steam railroad in the United States. 

She has ridden on both of these routes.

She said the Amtrak run from Portland to Vancouver has just opened back up.

I regularly travel by Amtrak to Seattle. I will take it up to Vancouver as soon as I can.

I think I can smell Bread Pudding.