Between my second and third year of college I spent the summer working at a Lutheran summer camp, Camp Perkins, which is about 45 minutes outside of Sun Valley, Idaho. It was the summer camp that I went to growing up and it still holds a fond place in my heart. I was a counselor assistant and spent most of my time in the kitchen. Each morning, a rotating group of counselors and counselor assistants would meet early, before breakfast, for morning prayers. Generally, our time was focused on a story or topic that one of the counselors had found. One story, even after 20 years, still sticks with me.
The (true) story was about a couple. Since the day they had fallen in love, they had made a habit of saying ” love you” every time they parted. Sometimes, of course, this was hard. The story related how even at times when they had been arguing, the last thing they said to each other was “I love you, even if it was through gritted teeth. It almost became a game, just a silly thing that they did, but every time one said it the other knew it was true.
On the morning of the accident, her husband was running late. He had an important meeting to get to and was in a hurry to get on the road. He left the house and got in the car, just saying goodbye. His wife came after him, in pajamas and curlers, and ran to the car. He laughed and said “I love you” and she said it back.
That was the last thing she ever said to him. He never made it into the office that day. Another driver hit and killed him on his drive. Even though her heart was shattered, she felt a sense of peace knowing that the last thing she said to him was “I love you”.
Earlier this week, a food blogger from New York, Jennie Perillo, suddenly lost her husband and father to her two small children. Even though I’ve never met any of them I found this news incredibly sad. Although I’ve seen this kind of loss before, when my mom lost her husband (my dad), I have a heard time comprehending what that would be like to go through firsthand.
Jennie wrote a short blog post. She’d been meaning to make him his favorite pie but there was never enough time in the day. “Ill make it tomorrow” she said. But now, suddenly all the tomorrows are gone.
She asked simply that today, if you wanted to help her heal, you make a peanut butter pie and share it with someone you love. So today, I made a pie for Mikey, with healing thoughts and prayers for Jennie and her family, and I’ll be sharing it with my husband, the love of my life. The man that I have made sure to say “I love you” to (sometimes through gritted teeth) every time we part. Because tomorrow is not guaranteed.
Get the recipe here: www.injennieskitchen.com