To Go

It's easier to go out to eat at places Cory had never been, especially if I'm with Jake and Tim.  We were hooked on a Greek place in town for awhile, and that was a refuge because I could eat there without being overtaken by memories of her laughing beside me.  I'm still parked at the junction where memories hurt every bit as much as they comfort.  The scale remains poised between the two, and it's a difficult place to live.

Music was different from the very beginning.  I wanted to hear her music.  It washed over me and said she still had an active presence in my life.  The only songs that were very difficult to hear for a long time were the ones that played during the service:  "Fix You" by Coldplay and "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry.  When either of these showed up on shuffle or on the radio, I would lunge to shut them off.  Only recently can I listen to them, and then only rarely.  When I do, it's a spirtual sort of experience, where my chair or my seat in the car disappears beneath me, and I am sitting on a pew waiting to say goodbye to my heart, hungry to see her face, wanting desperately to drag a chair up there and gaze down at her for every moment available because the lid will shut all too soon

A month or two ago, I got a craving for Chinese, not just the buffet I sometimes frequent with a friend on my lunch break (at a restaurant I never visited with Cory), but my usual Cashew Chicken with extra cashews, crab ragoon, and noodles of perfection.  Cory and I were hooked on these noodles in the worst way.  This particular restaurant was also one of the only places I could take Cory when she was very paranoid around other people.  It was a safe place.

We always sat in the same booth, in the corner, well away from others.  It's a family owned restaurant so we always had the same waitstaff.  We always ordered the same thing.  It was blessed predictability for my girl.  She'd always get the Kung Pao Chicken, spicy, with extra baby corn, and our favorite noodles.

Tim, Jake, and I decided to give it a try.  Of their own accord, my legs led us to the familiar booth.  By the time our drinks had arrived, I was crying.  Tim asked if I wanted to leave, but I could not ruin this for the boys, so I said no.  Every time I lifted my head and saw Tim and Jacob sitting beside each other, talking and laughing, across from me, the emptiness of the booth beside me was magnified.
I have pictures of Jake and Cory sitting beside each other in the very same booth.  We came here often when it was just the three of us, our little family.
When the food arrived, I expected it to taste empty and bland.  But wouldn't you know, those noodles of perfection were every bit as delicious as I remembered?  There I sat, tears streaming down my face, cramming the noodles Cory had loved in my mouth.  My heart was breaking...again...but I couldn't stop.  They tasted so good.

Life prevails.  It's selfish that way.

I've had the noodles again since then, and I'm sure I'll have them again.  But from now on, they will be to go.