To admit that I should learn how to cook her meals was to admit that one day, Mom wouldn’t be here to cook them for us…..

Every year, for every special occasion, my Mom makes a turkey dinner, complete with Ukrainian side dishes.  She learned at her Mother’s side and she’s been trying for years to get me to learn from her.  I always brush her off, thinking I’ve watched her enough times that I’d know how to do it if I had to, but why would I?  That’s Mom’s department, and always has been.

Being unmarried with no kids, cooking has never been a big deal for me.  During the common-law years with The Cowboy, I cooked when I had to but take-out was a fairly regular thing.  So learning to cook a big, complicated meal was not something I was interested in.

To me, cooking the big holiday meals is something Mom has always done.  To admit that I should learn how to cook her meals was to admit that one day, Mom wouldn’t be here to cook them for us, and that was something I have never been able to visualize or even admit could be possible without experiencing a feeling of horrible, gut-wrenching fear.

Today, Easter Sunday, something moved me to watch her cook.  She’s getting everything ready for tomorrow so we can have our big Easter dinner a day late, because Brother Brad is working today.  And as I watched her starting her process, something told me that today was the day to start taking notes.  I pulled out my trusty iPad and opened up a new Note, and started writing it all down.  Even as I was writing, I was telling myself, “One day, you’re gonna look at these notes while you’re cooking and remember the day you wrote them, when Mom was standing right in the kitchen beside you, and now she’s gone.”

I know that one day, that will be the case, but it’s not today – today, I enjoyed cooking at my Mom’s side while she passed down knowledge from her Mom and Baba, and one day, I’ll be glad I did.