Memory Chain: Post Your Memories

My dad liked to cook. He wasn't the best cook, but he reslly tried. I don't have many good memories of him, but I have a couple of them a few days before his passing.

One Sunday afternoon, he cooked for my mom and I. He bought two bottles of white wine, because he knew I dislike red wine. He insisted so much I had a glass with him in the days prior, that even if I didn't really feel like drinking that day, I indulged him. That day he was pretty calm. So I stayed a little longer than usual after lunch, we had tea with cookies, and we just chatted about anything. No screams. No insults. For a moment there, it felt almost normal.

Later that week, he insisted I came over for dinner. It had been a couple of days since I'd seen him, and I was in a lot of physical pain. When I got there, it was late, and I had class in the morning. He told me it wouldn't take him too long to finish, but it took him over an hour to make a homemade tomato sauce for the pasta. As he came over to the table with the food and started serving my plate, he said and for some reason it stuck with me "Cooking is a gift of the self to others." I think the reason why it did is because he seldom displayed selflessness. I hope you RIP

related to cooking, my grandmother was a really good cook- in fact her speciality was sunday roasts (in particular the yorkshire puddings)

she used to cook for me on sundays, and not only was it the nicest food, but she would always make sure that I have everything I need, and enough before she even thought about serving herself, even if it meant her waiting ages after me to eat

it was sad when she got dimentia, because I really enjoyed her cooking, and it took a while to sink in that I would never enjoy it again

I remember sitting in folding chairs and just witnessing the garden, the trees and blue sky with my dad. We did not talk much but I felt good being with him.