Remembering our loved ones through baking: The Sweetness of Nostalgia

I whisk the flour, sugar, butter and eggs. I delight in the textures as they come together into a smooth batter. I chop up peanut butter cups (the hidden surprise!) and add them to my batter. Into the oven they go - birthday cupcakes for my dear friend. Today is not just any day of baking, it's special, because I get to honor someone who I have missed greatly over the past two and a half decades.

The path of grief is often life-long. We are caught off guard by a song that comes on the radio, we are stirred by a memory or a dream, we are warmed by old photos and memento's that we know were once held in the hands of the person we are missing. And sometimes, it blindsides us with a jolt of pain and we may feel the tears threaten to venture down our cheeks. Sometimes, though, we go looking for that connection because that love is ever-present and the relationship between you and your loved one lingers on, even after years or decades "apart." It is always, always accessible.

Baking has been a surprising way to seek out that connection with my loved ones who have passed. It is a very intentional way of saying "You are not forgotten and you are still loved so much." It's an opportunity to quiet down the outside noise of life and really focus on that special relationship in a joyful way! Maybe some might think it's silly to bake something for someone who can't eat it and won't see it (although I don't believe that for one second) but the purpose is in the act itself - it's a balm for your own heart and an opportunity to put the love you long to give to them into something tangible. I love the quote "grief is just love with no place to go" because that is really what it feels like sometimes. Baking is a way to direct that love - it's an act of honoring, it's taking the time and energy because the "doing" is part of the "loving."

 So, today I fell into a beautiful and nostalgic rhythm in my kitchen. I chose to listen to music that reminds me of how free spirited we were at school dances (thank god social media didn't exist in the 90's!). I selected the flavors of the cake based on her enthusiasm for the multiple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she would eat at my house after school. And then I noticed as I began to construct my artwork (because baking is definitely art and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!), the emotions and happy memories just flooded right into my heart - and in return I created something meant to go directly to hers. I know, without a doubt, that she would have hugged me and told me she loved the wonky butterflies (FYI - don't try to do delicate chocolate work on an 85 degree day!)

 and the flavors. I laugh to myself thinking about how likely it is that she would have also been a very bold critic, giving me the truth no matter what. Tonight, I will sit down with a pot of tea and have that peanut butter & jelly flavored cupcake. I will wish her a silent "Happy Birthday, Cory." And my heart will be soothed for a little while more.

Part of the growth of baking is also in the mishaps and failures. Working with chocolate on a hot day was a mistake but I know my friend is probably cracking up over how these turned out. E for effort!! Two butterflies to symbolize an enduring friendship beyond what we can understand.