My sweet father-in-law passed away this week. He was a good ‘ol boy from Iowa who loved fishing, baseball and sweets. (You know he and I bonded over our mutual love of sugar.)
I’m still a little shocked that he died. Even though he was on hospice, Del had survived numerous heart attacks (the first in his 40s!), strokes, cancer, and serious diabetes. We have always joked that nothing would take him short of an apocalypse, and even that was questionable.
He was suffering in the end though, so it’s best that he closed his eyes and let go of the pain. But even so, we miss him very much. He always had a story to tell and my three kiddos were the light of his life.
(Here’s Papa with little Lauren on one of our favorite beaches on Seabrook Island.)
Papa and I did love our cakes, cookies, pies and confections. At Christmas a few years ago, my mom made her traditional cherry pie. Our family dies over this pie — it’s that good. We lick our plates. We lick our fingers. We even lick between our teeth to get one last morsel. So you can imagine, when Papa announced he’d take the last piece of cherry pie home I almost flipped my lid. My sisters say that the room got silent and my eyes popped out of my head. I don’t remember because I wasn’t present in that moment because SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO TAKE THE LAST PIECE OF PIE, DADGUMMIT!
I let him take it. I think. (I’m still a little fuzzy due to the trauma.)
But we’ve never forgotten The Cherry Pie Incident of 2012.
Papa, I hope you’re eating lots of cherry pie in heaven.