Janet here: I have a fairly new friend who I found through a shared love of music. Without going into all the details, let's just say that Jean helped reintroduce me to a part of my musical world that I had left unsatisfied for 30 years. It's been great.
Sadly, in August her husband of many years died of cancer. Jean is understandably bereft. We've tried to help a bit by playing together more frequently, but the other thing we immediately jumped to was food. Without even thinking about it, Lisa and I added bringing dinner to the musical nights out. We jumped to this without discussion, without forethought.
While of course there's no way Lisa and I can make up for Jean's loss, this whole thing has made me think again about the healing quality of food. It doesn't really matter what the food is, of course; instead it's the act of cooking for someone else and bringing them sustenance. And then it's the shared moment of sitting down together and eating. We pass the food around the table, talk of other things and suddenly, for just a moment, everything seems bearable.
We are playing together again this week. Lisa is bringing vegetable lasagna and I will bring roasted vegetable soup. We will play trios, laugh and talk, and then we will eat. And when we leave, we will leave our food behind for Jean to reheat, and she will remember once again that she is not alone.
Food is a great comfort, and sharing food with someone who's hurting is a wonderful thing to do. But I must disagree that what the food is doesn't matter. I'd much rather see my friend come in the door with a plate of brownies than some nice, freshly pickled sauerkraut!
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