Grief: A food memory
My husband died fifteen years ago and this is a happy-sad memory about food.
One morning, I sleepily walked into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. I had left a pan of dinner on the stove for my daughter, the night before. She would be returning from work after the rest of us were in bed. As I picked up the pan to wash it with a few other dishes, I noticed one ravioli and one carrot left in the bottom of the pan.