I think I have truly lost my mind. I am still trying to figure out a way to come to terms with the loss of someone I have known for over 30 years. I took her for granted and why shouldn’t I have? She was a seemingly healthy woman in her late 50’s. No one expected her to succumb to cancer five weeks after diagnosis. Unlike Nor, who took ten years to give up the fight, Mary was gone in a month’s time. Somehow it doesn’t seem right and it’s never fair. My shock still masks anger. An anger that bubbles beneath the surface of denial. I can’t come clean until I know where to set down this disbelief. Only then can I find a way to grieve.
I think I have found the process- some kind of journey to travel – something that will end in acceptance and understanding. Mary wrote a cookbook several years back. Urged by friends and family, she created a book of recipes that was part story, part art, part cooking and all heart. It told the story of her life before Monhegan, after the Trailing Yew and during the her life on the Mary Day. It recounted not only recipes, but relationships that made Mary who she was. It visualized why everyone loved her. In a word her cookbook was just like her, beautiful.
They say that baking soothes the soul and heals the heart. There is a meditation to it. I have to believe in this because I have decided to cook and bake my way through every recipe from Mary’s cookbook, Ring That Bell. My husband is convinced we’ll gain weight (as the first recipe is none other than the Trailing Yew’s famous breakfast donuts). I am convinced I’ll find peace. Only time will tell.