Good Mourning

Gathering around the kitchen of the table following the passing of a loved one is something that transcends religions and ethnicity. My family is no different. Coming from Irish, Ukrainian, and Polish Descent, which clearly has a lot to say on mourning in the Polish culture. There are many memories I have of pre and post service meals, filling loved one's ice boxes and cabinets with enough casseroles and dry goods to last the living for eternity. But why do we do it?

My grandmother was a feeder. As much as she was a looker, a lover of estate sale gems, and a devout CB radio enthusiast, she was a feeder. It was her way. Even if her way came with a chiding tsk tsk, "your pants *are* getting a little snug" she would be heaping the fried chicken, potato salad and green beans onto your plate. My grandfather too, was a feeder in his own sort. This may not have included anything that he himself prepared for you, but more along the lines of a second serving of desert, a handful of candy, or better yet a small, ornate, crystal vessel containing at the tender age of 5 or so my drug of choice: The Fuzzy Navel.

So, all history lessons aside, We laid my grandfather to rest this week and preceded to have a fun, silly, honorable, dinner filled with reminiscing about the ways of my grandmother and grandfather, and each retelling the various tales that had been passed onto each of us. Of course lining up the incongruities could sometimes be my favorite part. I would say that i would take most of what has been told to me with a grain of salt, and the other half is hogwash. For our chosen meal of hearty laughter and many a cocktail we hit up a local Asian-Fusion restaurant which was already loud and boisterous when we got there, so no sad faces, no I'm sorry's, we just added to the upbeat vibe of the room and enjoyed some delish dishes with a heaping side of tears rolling down the cheeks in laughter and love.