Last weekend I was feeling the contentment of having a day with no plans and that I could spend as I pleased. The hint of fall in the air gave me a hankering to start up our “Saturday Soup” routine again; a routine that gives way to grilling on the patio in the spring. As I searched the pantry for the soup ingredients, I was thinking about how many years we have been making soup on Saturdays and it suddenly hit me – Zach never knew this routine. We started it after he died. Life moved on.
Seven years ago, Zach came home from a run and his hip hurt. And life moved on.
Two and a half months later, Zach was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. And life moved on.
Six and a half years ago, Zach had his hip replaced. And life moved on.
Six years ago, Zach’s cancer spread to his lungs. And life moved on.
Five years ago, Zach’s cancer spread to his lungs again. And life moved on.
Four years ago, Zach’s cancer grew in his lungs and spread to his pelvis. And life moved on.
Three years, four months and 15 days ago, Zach died. And life moved on.
Three years ago, we started making soup on Saturdays. Our lives moved on.
There are moments in the middle of the moving on when something as mundane as opening the pantry door unexpectedly reminds me of his absence and blasts me like a sudden freezing cold wind. He’s not here, and sometimes the ache is so bad, I just need the comfort of some homemade soup so that life can move on.
Peace,
Laura