Pizza Quest

January 12

Today was by turns a bit better and just as bad. We went for coffee along Abbot Kinney, just to get out. It is difficult to walk around in this new world, but necessary. The coffee wasn’t very good, and afterwards we strolled along the street sampling a couple of different pizzas. Somehow, we are always on one food quest or another. Gjelina pizza is pretty good, as it turns out.

Then down to the sea for a walk along the jetty. Breathing in the brisk ocean smell. The salt air clears out the cobwebs a bit, the infinite expanse of ocean and sky revives the spirit momentarily. The clockwork sanderlings chased the residue of the waves, poking their tiny bills into the wet sand looking for dinner. The soft hiss as the water slid to and fro over the shore. He was a water boy. At home on the water, in the water and under the water. Jake’s memory always hovering within our consciousness. So many good times at the beach. Building the Tiki Hut in Hawaii, digging in the sand on both coasts, splashing and laughing in the warm Pacific waves. So many good times. There should have been so many more.

Back home for a quiet dinner, everything going pretty smoothly and suddenly out of the blue, the thunderbolt of sadness struck. The fountain welling up inside until it came pouring out. It is the seemingly most insignificant thing that triggers it. In this case talking about dipping cookies in chocolate. It was Jake that taught Terry how to properly temper chocolate for dipping, so it retains its proper sheen and texture. We no longer have his counsel in this and so many other matters.

It is these little things we miss the most. The million and one moments that make up our loved ones connection to us. Jake will never make that promised seafood soup he learned in Italy. Never make us waffles again. Never share a laugh, call me Pops, wisecrack with that wicked sense of humor I miss so dreadfully now.

It really isn’t enough to relive those memories. I want him here, to hold him, to kiss him, to put my hands on his head and bless him as I did every time we parted. But the memories are all we have now. It will just have to do.

Originally posted on Facebook January 12, 2014

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About edcol52

The Infinite Fountain of Love and Loss flows unceasingly into the pool of memory and sorrow. I created this blog in response to the most dreadful tragedy every parent fears, the death of a child, our 24 year old son, Jake. We are now on an unimagined journey along this road of grief and recovery. If you can find some comfort within these pages, than I will have succeeded in some small measure.
This entry was posted in Coping, Daily Ramblings, Food, Friends and Family, Grief, Healing, Jake Colman, Jake's Spirit, Memory, Past Facebook Post, Sadness and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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