MY EXISTENTIAL CRISIS

Existential Crisis - the moment in which an individual questions whether his (or her) life has any meaning, purpose, or value. An existential crisis is often provoked by a significant event in the person's life. 
- from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My existential crisis happened a few years ago when Mom passed away. I had recently turned sixty, which was significant in and of itself; then suddenly, my mother was gone. Her death was a jarring reminder that life doesn't go on forever, at least not as we know it now; and it made me question the meaning of our existence. Why are we here? What is life all about?

The night before her funeral, I stood in the kitchen, staring blankly into my parent's open fridge, trying to figure out what I was going to feed everyone the next day. It occurred to me that among other things, this was what Mom did. She fed people. She had certain dishes that she made for particular occasions; family dinners, holiday feasts, and yes, even funerals; and I didn't know how to cook any of them. I just chopped vegetables, ate, and helped clean up the kitchen. Of course, I needn't have worried, because friends and neighbors brought enough food to feed an army.

A few days later I sat on my parent's porch swing, looking through the cookbook that Mom had begun as a newlywed. Actually, it was more like a scrapbook of recipes that she had written down or cut out of magazines. Some of the recipes were my grandmother's. There were so many dishes and meals that evoked memories of growing up in the South.

That's when it hit me; food is so much more than just sustenance; it's nostalgic; comforting; communal. It's love and life on a plate. My siblings and I grew up and moved away; but whenever we came home, the highlight of each visit was our joyous reunion around the dinner table. And that's why my mom cooked.

It was sad to think that Mom's tattered, beloved, scrapbook of recipes would die along with her. I considered our future family meals. What would we do? Go out for burgers? Get a bucket of chicken? And what about my grandchildren? "Hey, let's go to Grandma's for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!" At that moment, I understood what life was all about. It's about kinship and friendship; roots and tradition; and love. It's about gathering around the table together; talking, laughing, and sharing a good meal. And I knew what I had to do...