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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

The last joint of pork

Due to the power cut I had to cook everything in my freezer and fridge (not that there's a lot in there these days).

This meant that I had to cook the last joint of pork that Cliff had bought. He was good at selecting meat, and always managed to choose really nice pieces.

It felt strange cooking it ... usually I would have made apple sauce and a roast dinner out of it. I tried to keep myself busy, but the smell permeated the whole house and in the end I was sobbing - because I could visualize him going through all the meat, taking his time (with me tapping my foot impatiently) at the supermarket.

I felt bad that I was always so damn impatient when we went shopping.

I felt sad that he would never go shopping with me again.

And when I got the pork out of the oven, I couldn't stomach trying a slice ... although the dogs did ... having forced themselves to sleep under the oven for 2 hours almost.

Last night, I carved myself two slices. Carving the meat feels alien to me. I just can't cut it as thinly as he did. He took care of me so well, and was so thoughtful, always ensuring there wasn't even a slither of fat on it. I loved watching his hands at work, carving meat, whatever they were doing, just loved his hands. Man's hands. Beautiful hands.

Well, I ate two slices and it was yummy. Fred and Barney thought so too.

Part of me wants to eat it. Part of me wants to preserve it. Part of me wants to chop it in half and give it to the dogs. Part of me wants to sling it in the bin.

But I'll try and eat a little more this evening. He'd want me to.

After all, it's the last chance to have a taste ... of life with him.

4 comments:

  1. you and i are very much of like mind. there are things i very much regret. i try to remember. was i nice to him about that? i'm not the adventurer he is. he always wanted me to go with him far out onto the rocks. "come see. it's beautiful from here." and i'd panic. i tried and tried, but couldn't find the bravery to go. so he'd take my camera to get a shot for me to see. and i would stand like a dummy looking back, my heart beating fast, trying to work out how i was going to get back from just that far out. and he was so patient. but did he just hide his frustration really well?

    i'm cautious. he thrived on risk. what a pair we were. and you and Cliff. compliments of each other. he saw in you something he very much wanted to be close to. your quirks were something he knew he could never live without. a man like Cliff, like my Dragon, would never marry without knowing what he was getting himself into. he wanted to be in it with you, Boo. you were exactly what he wanted.

    you speak of his hands. i have photos that show the Dragon's hands, but they don't show the myriad of white scars that crisscrossed his flesh. i love his hands as you love Cliff's.

    now that i've presented myself as level-headed with nurturing thoughts and parallel stories, let me be quirky. i have saved a bottle of hand lotion that my Dragon bought a week before he died. it's empty but it has the sticker of the store that is local only to Rockport, where we lived together. that store is not here where i have to live now. so my suggestion is to take a picture of the pork. =o) maybe a Polaroid. i don't know. it's just a silly notion. something that may bring you a smile later and yet a way to hold onto the memory of him bringing it in from the stores.

    i hope you at least smiled and shook your head at my suggestion. "silly woman. take a photo of meat? what would i do with that?"

    love you, Boo. thinking of you on this terrible, melancholy journey. i'm always here for you.

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  2. far from it, I am going to take a photo of it. What a good suggestion, thank you. With love, Boo xxx p.s. I loved what you wrote about they would not have married us without knowing us entirely and because we were what they wanted - I think I needed that reassurance. Thanks for that too xxx

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  3. I love the idea of taking a picture of the pork! We've had lots of things in our kitchen that have brought the boys and I to the point of catching our breath (and me to tears) so I can relate to your experience. And I was just thinking about Austin's hands the other day. He had "man hands" too, which I really started to think about after I had a meeting with a man who had very feminine hands. I miss those man hands....

    Hope you eat another couple of slices today and know that he's smiling over you, watching you enjoy the pork that he chose just for you.

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  4. :-) that brought a big smile to my face Debbie, when you described have a meeting with a man who had very feminine hands ... I HATE that!!!!

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