Mom Started Cooking Again

Mom Started Cooking Again

I remember the first meal we had after my sister passed. My parents and I sitting at the table with an empty chair, chicken sandwiches in front of us and all we could do is weep. Nine months later, on her birthday, we gathered together at a restaurant to eat pasta, one of her favorite foods, and the only thing that seemed to fill her empty place at the table was our grief. My mother and I coming home from the hospital after my dad passed, exhausted from an all-nighter, uncontrollably sobbing while breaking in and out of consciously as sleep overtook us. I cannot recall our first meal on this day. 

Meals united us as a family. They were covenanted rituals that created a comfort zone in our home. My parents had a traditional relationship that worked for them and Mom would usually have dinner ready the moment Dad got home from work. It was her ministry as a wife and something she took much pride in accomplishing for him, us kids benefitted mutually from their arrangement and were gifted with almost nightly meals spent together. As we got older, we would miss some here and there but we always knew that were happening with or without us at the round table in the middle of our home. 

When Dad and sister died, we still had to eat but it looked completely different for us. Our complex grief sending us to survival mode only allowed for us to eat what was convenient in the moment. This included mostly fast food, door dash orders, and thankfully a few kind people bringing us some homemade dishes. It’s interesting to look back on it all now, so many years later, and see how long this season of our lives was. I’d say roughly two years of consuming only junk until finally we had enough. Both of us craving a homemade meal but it still felt so overwhelming to even think about cooking at home. 

Grief hijacks your cognitive functions. Minimal things, like cooking dinner, feel overwhelming. Motivation is lacking, and trying to enjoy a meal like you used to can be triggering. Grief shatters your patterns and any efforts to get back into a regular routine requires extreme effort. Not to mention, the physical side affects disrupting regular digestion. What seems like the simple task of feeding oneself is now a treacherous journey. 

There is scientific research on the correlation between cooking food at home and improved mental health. Cooking/baking provides a clear structure with an end result, when you focus your attention and follow this recipe - you will get this result. It’s correlated to lowering stress levels (cortisol) and increasing motivation (dopamine), improving mood (serotonin & oxytocin), as well as providing your body with more balanced nutrients (versus fast food), and serves as a grounding technique for PTSD related anxieties (acute stress response). So, three years after the death of your father, when your mother says she wants to start cooking again, the light inside you shines a little bit brighter. 

Scientifically, my Mom and I experience lower stress levels when cooking and eating at home. Emotionally, we experience nostalgia in the process of recreating sacred family moments. Physically, we’re feeding our bodies proper nutrients more consistently than before. Having a home-cooked meal just does something for the soul and seeing my mom do something that used to create so much joy in our home does something for my for my heart. It’s a slow process, but progression is made daily. If grief has taught me anything, it’s to be patient with yourself and enjoy the little things like when Mom starts cooking again.