Bear with me — I promise there are recipes at the end of the tunnel.
When someone close to you dies, you enter a well-worn stretch of time commonly called a year of “firsts.” People who have gone through it before will describe navigating that first twelve months of “this is the first year that ______ hasn’t been at ___________.” Each milestone can feel like a small, sharp jolt.
For us, the firsts began even before my dad passed, during the six months between diagnosis and the end. There was the first Thanksgiving without him — his favorite holiday — when my mom and sister rushed him to the hospital. I watched the ambulance doors close and then turned back to the house, staying with the thirty guests we had invited. I had already suspected it might be our last holiday together and clung to hope.
Well-intentioned relatives and friends stepped in to help reheat dishes, serve the meal and make gravy. I took on the role of cheerful hostess: pouring wine, delegating tasks and saying what everyone wanted to hear — that he would want us to carry on. I kept pretending everything was OK. My hands trembled as I carved the turkey, a task that had always been my dad’s.
There were other firsts: the first time he missed the office holiday party, the first time he couldn’t attend a grandchild’s school play. And now he’s gone. The official year of firsts lies ahead like an emotional obstacle course, full of moments that force you to notice absence.
My father was brilliant, generous and notoriously hard to please. I always felt I had my best chance of winning his approval in the kitchen. When he dug into a slice of apple streusel pie or a plate of ribs and smiled, I felt embarrassingly gratified and validated. In the acknowledgments of my book I admitted that “my parents’ opinions matter to me more than anyone else’s, with the exception of my husband.” It’s not always healthy, but it’s true.
So one of the biggest firsts approaches: the first Father’s Day without a father. It still doesn’t feel real; it hasn’t fully penetrated. But I know when I’m cooking for Gary this Sunday, I’ll be cooking for my dad in spirit as well. Fortunately, both men loved pie.
A Father’s Day Menu for Gary