The Last Slice

a sampling of sweet potato desserts like Granny used to make

I know I've been MIA for a little bit. 
I got busy with a few things and then my granny passed away unexpectedly this past Monday. I've been back in my hometown with family for the last week because of this. Now that I'm back home and the silence is louder than usual, I wanted to post a tribute to her. 

I should note, she made it very plain that she was "Granny". If you called her grandma, grandmother, nanna, or anything else she would without hesitation correct you. "I'm GRANNY!"

If you've been following, you know that I posted a recipe a few weeks ago for Granny's Vegetable Soup. However, that doesn't begin to scratch the surface of all the good meals/desserts she'd given us over the years--all made with love.  I think most would agree that two people can follow the exact same same recipe, but the one who painstakingly made it with care-taking pride in the recipe and not rushing for anything and caring for those who'll eat it-- will always taste better.

My first love for making and eating food was birthed right in her kitchen. To this day, random older people that I don't know will come up to me and ask me "Are you the grandchild that would always watch and follow Rosie around the kitchen?" She spoke to a lot of people on the phone all the time, and I guess when I was younger she liked to mention that. Over the years, she's made countless brandy pound cakes, chicken strips, steamed cabbage pots, soul-food dinners (whether the items went to together or not and my family should appreciate that statement), chocolate rolls (to which the recipe she intentionally took to the grave), banana puddings, pinto beans, cornbread, salmon patties with grits (yuck), biscuits, pitchers of that super good sweet tea, vegetable soup, and more. I can still remember being short enough that I was eye-level with the table and she'd have her coffee mug overflowing with coffee spilled onto the saucer. And we'd delight in butter bread and molasses for breakfast. Soppin' it up. Mmm.

She always claimed she didn't like cooking. But I think she did. She just wanted something to complain about. You'd have to have known her to get what I'm saying and maybe not be offended by that statement.

As we were putting away food that so many wonderful friends and family dropped by the house during the week as we grieved, I noticed Granny had mixed some sweet potato custard and frozen it. 

It. was. the. last. one.....ever. 

She used to let me take her frozen batches home so I could enjoy it later. So I asked if we could thaw it and make/finish it before I left to come back home and eat it together as a family. After all, it's the last one. My sister laughed at me at first. Probably because I'd said it with the "fat girl look in my eyes". But we did. 

Now Granny made her "potato custards" and "potato soufflés" in different ways. So that's what Ma and I did with the last batch--a sampling of all the ways Granny made it. We made it into a sweet potato pie as well as a soufflé with the toppings she'd use- coconut, marshmallows, the crunchy sweet topping, and the crunchy sweet topping with pecans. I vaguely remember one random time where she might have used raisins, but we didn't do that. This way everybody could get what they wanted. 

Snow started to fall and the weather station was also calling for rain and possible black ice later in the night, so I was rushed to be on my way. I only tasted my share before packing it up and taking it with me. 

Last night I was exhausted, so I took another taste before putting it in the fridge. I thought about that bite the whole time I was in the shower. And I thought about life. I thought about my time with Granny-good and bad. I was reminded of a conversation my aunt had earlier in the week with the pastor (I think) about mouthfuls of cinnamon and kids eating this on a dare. 
(apparently it's horrible by itself and will seem like it's just about choking you) 
Knowing this dessert contains cinnamon, I began to think about that. I don't know many people who suck down raw eggs and like it. Or anyone who'd willingly drink vanilla extract and think it's wonderful. Mouthful of cinnamon and nutmeg can downright choke you. Yet all these ingredients make a wonderfully sweet dessert. So it is with life. Mix the good with the bad and you really have an extraordinary gift from God when you look at the bigger picture. My family and I have some wonderfully great memories. Also some very hilarious stories to tell. And like most other families, we have bad ones too. But you know what? I wouldn't change that. All those things mixed together  made a great time in life. All adding to the fullness of the pie that is life. And the oven timer went off. (Okay, I may have gone overboard with the analogy but you get what I'm saying.)

Today I'm writing this while I have the last slice. I've got tears in my eyes. I can honestly say that I'm heartbroken and happy at the same time. I'm sad I didn't get a chance to say goodbye face to face. That I was woefully unprepared for this news. Sad that she's gone. However, I'm happy to have good memories and someone who loved me for so much of my life. I never went to a daycare as a child. She was my daycare when my parents were working. She and my D-daddy (grandfather) were my after-school care (which she was to her other grands and great grands until the day she died). She was my school bus and taxi, personal chef and teacher. She was my nurse when I was sick even if it was in the most unconventional ways. She was my entertainment even when she wasn't trying to be.  She was my first PR agent because she bragged about my art. She didn't throw away any art work. She always framed and kept it.  She still had something I made with my dad when I was 3 or 4 hanging in her bedroom. We, my mom and sister, moved in with her when my father died.  A short time after, moved right next door. Because that's what family does. Family looks out for each other even when they don't always agree. She helped in a number of other ways others wouldn't believe solely because they're so quick to judge. But this was my Granny. Her obituary says she was a homemaker and loving grandmother. That's nothing but truth. I'm nothing but "at home" when I'm at Granny's house. This week it wasn't the same there without her. 

child's apron Granny gave me when I was little

She liked to play with me at the door whenever I came and the door was locked. She looked at me through the window, smirking and laughing and playfully waving as if to say she wasn't going to let me in and I was at her mercy. Sometimes she'd stand there and smile and ask me if it was cold out holding her fingers on the locked knob. She would eventually let me in though. We buried her on Valentine's Day. When they closed the casket I pictured her peeping through the door window at me waving and smirking. As if to say she's not going to let me in this time because she's finally spending time with my D-Daddy again.


I don't have anymore grandparents or great grandparents. She was the last. Cherish yours if you still have them.

This is the last slice. 
I have to savor it.