I don't know what it is. Maybe it has something to do with having a good cooking heritage.
Whatever the reason, one of the ways I find myself grieving and honouring my deceased loved ones is by cooking or baking something that reminds me of them.
When my Grandma Morrison passed away, I made a big bacon and egg supper. You couldn't stay over at Grandma's without having bacon and eggs for breakfast. Probably every morning, if she didn't run out of bacon. She also made a mean cream covered oatmeal...
This afternoon in Prince George, my Grandma Brown is being laid to rest. In her honour I baked Golden Corn Cake for breakfast.
Yesterday, at Mildred's funeral, there was about an hour where I'm sure the lady beside me, who, bless her, had plenty of tissue to share, wondered why I was so overcome. I did my grieving for Grandma during yesterday's funeral.
I also spent the funeral hour remembering. God has gifted me with some clear, strong memories- and the best are the ones linked to common sounds and smells, because those memories always take me back to Grandma and Grandpa's farm, and I am immediately a child again.