Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts

Monday, 25 February 2013

2007 - Postscript to a Painful 2006

My sister Lisa, co-founder and co-creator of Our Cookie Journal, loved Christmas and family.


I couldn't write anymore last year after Lisa died— too bleary-eyed and heart-broken. I don't even think I baked anything else after Charlie and I got back to England. I was shattered with grief and we both had jet-lag. Christmas was less than a week away and we were scheduled to move into our new house in January. It was a relief that there was so much going on; I didn't have as much time to dwell on my loss.

I'll miss my sister in every way, every day. Since it was close to Christmas and I'd had Our Cookie Journal out, I took it with me to the funeral, with loads of photos. It was nice to have a legacy to remember her and something she loved doing — baking cookies with and for her family. 

Mom said that Lisa, Mike and April made Festive Fudge the weekend before she died. I'm glad I made it too — and that I got to tell her about it. We talked about how good it was and how it reminded us of the fudge we'd buy by the pound at the Kentucky State Fair.

I've already written that she baked Pumpkin Bread in some giant loaf tins that Mike bought for her. And she made April's birthday cake earlier in the week — chocolate frosting on a yellow cake for her youngest of four daughters, a 10-year-old.

She also showcased a new entry in her repertoire: Crunchy Peanut Butter Balls. There's a Rice Krispy version that uses powdered sugar but she used a recipe featured in Taste of Home magazine. More a candy than a cookie, these rich concoctions were the last treats she made. She declared them a success worth repeating and had three fresh off the tray — as did April and Rachel. They were still in the fridge at her house on the day of her funeral, and the girls offered one to me. I took a chocolate-y sphere from the tray, took one bit and, although it was yummy, I just couldn't swallow it. It was too sad and I was too choked up. April said they wound up throwing the rest of them out because they depressed everyone. Bless her. 

Mom had planned to make White Chocolate Cherry Crunchies but said she couldn't remember where she saw the recipe. It was Lisa who had remembered that it was Paula Deen's recipe. That girl's memory was impeccable! I will miss that so much — she knew all the dates and names and details of all our lives. Mom had a batch of Coconut Cream-Filled Macaroons in the fridge that she couldn't ever bring herself to finish after Lisa died. She threw it all out. "I wanted to knock it all on the floor," she said. 

Rachel and April wound up making some slice and bake cookies — snowmen, trees and stars. Danielle and Michelle said they just couldn't because it would be too depressing. April said making cookies, like her mom did, made her happy. We all handle it differently.

Michael honored Lisa with a baking frenzy that included Chocolate Chip Cookies, Whoopie Pies (regular and peanut butter), Peanut Butter Cookies, Peanut Butter Fudge and Donya's Coconut Crunch Delight. Lisa definitely would have given him a cookie stamp of approval on such a peanut-buttery array. I'm sure his baking session was cathartic as well.

I will miss her brief but brilliant entries in Our Cookie Journal. As well as collecting and trading recipes with each other. And passing the diary back and forth each year to review Christmases (and kitchens) past and talk about the current year's hits and misses. I'll miss her memory, her sense of humor and her love and comfort. I'll miss her help in the kitchen, even when we weren't baking side-by-side. I'll miss the promise of another session with her. But I'll never forget the fun we shared, the memories we made and the dozens of cookies we ate together. I'll measure every new recipe by her standards and her memory will mingle with the aromas in my kitchen every time I bake cookies. I love you, Dahling! Merry Christmas, always! 

Crunchy Peanut Butter Balls

1 c peanut butter
1 jar (7 oz) marshmallow creme
1 1/2 c crisp rice cereal
1 1/2 c (9 oz) semisweet chocolate chips
4 tsp vegetable shortening

In a large bowl, combine the peanut butter and marshmallow creme; add cereal and stir until well coated.

In a small microwave-safe bowl, combine chocolate chips and shortening. Microwave, uncovered, for 1-2 minutes, or until chips are melted; stir until smooth.

Roll cereal mixture into 1-inch balls; dip in chocolate. Place on a waxed paper-lined baking sheet. Refrigerate until set.

Yield: 2 1/2 dozen.


Friday, 22 February 2013

2006 - The Day the Cookies Cried


My happy, darling sister, Lisa, frosting cookies for Christmas.

Mom called today and told me Lisa died. How, oh how, is that possible?! I refused to believe it. My brain still can't fathom it. My Lisa!! Co-founder and co-author of Our Cookie Journal. Sister. Best friend. Mother. Daughter. Wife. All-around goodnik. How is she gone?!

I talked to her Thursday — she was going to bake cookies with Mom this year. Mom was out at Lisa's house Friday, so they could plan what they were going to bake. They had decided to bake tomorrow but Lisa was tired and her back was hurting, so she wanted to move it to Thursday and Friday. She was supposed to see a specialist on Wednesday. 

How could my dearie be dead? I'm so alone here in England — I wish I was home with Mom and Lisa's girls. I just hope Mike waits with the funeral for me — so I can see her one last time. Oh my God — I'm just sick with grief over her. She was only 44. Her youngest daughter, April, just celebrated her 10th birthday four days ago!! And it's Aunt Catherine's birthday. This is just so wrong.

I'm glad I spoke to her several times over the past few weeks. She was looking forward to Christmas, as always. We talked about stocking stuffers and presents for the kids. And how much we miss each other. She had made Pumpkin Bread with giant loaf pans that Mike had bought for her. And she had told Mom that she wanted to make "Kevin's" Lime Meltaways. And she told me that she wanted to get the Kolacky recipe from me. 

It's Sunday, Dec. 10, and I usually call her on Sundays. I don't know how to go on without her. I wish I had been able to reach her when I called her Friday. How can she be gone?! LISA!!! I need you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Lisa Jo — my only sister. My dearie. My "dahlink". I love you so much!!

Needless to say, I won't be baking any more cookies this Christmas. (Or listening to U2 — our favorite band — ever again.) Charlie and I are booked on a flight to Louisville on Wednesday. Meanwhile, I'm walking around the house like a caged animal, wanting only to be home with my family. Poor Charlie doesn't understand, so I have to keep up appearances for his sake. But I cannot stop crying and wishing with all my heart that this is not real...