Strawberry Jam

I was thinking about the post from this morning and my early grief and I remembered something else.  I dont think I have ever actually talked about this, but perhaps someone out there needs this silly little story of mine. It may be a bit graphic, but it is honest and from my heart.

Every Tuesday my grandma has a fish fry.  The whole family meets at her house and we enjoy fish that the men of the family have caught.  Mainly, perch...my dad has a boat on Lake Erie and he often takes the guys out fishing.  She serves up a wonderful home cooked meal and we all gather around the table to eat, laugh, joke, and tell about our weeks.  Among my favorite things she serves is home made bread and jams or jellies.  Strawberry is my favorite.

Jam, as some of you may know, still contains the seeds of the fruit from which it is made.

Just a few days after we lost Vanessa I found myself sitting at the table with my cousins, husband, oldest son, and my grandparents.  I remember the sun was shining outside.  Grandma and Grandpa started bringing in the food and sitting it out on the table.  Suddenly in front of me was a jar of strawberry jam.  It was red and had little seeds in it...fresh in my grief it looked like something other than jam.  All I could think about was all the babies who were miscarried and taken from their mothers by a D and C....all jumbled up in that jar.  I started to panic, ran from the room, the house....I slammed the door behind me and SOBBED in the garage. My heart broke all over again.  Waves of fresh grief washed over me again, again, and again. I really just wanted to be alone, but my husband was there within a few minutes.  His arms around me was more comfort than I realized I was capable of feeling at that moment.  I got it out of my system and went back in...and someone must have known because the jam was gone.  No one asked, no one spoke of it.  My cousins couldnt even look me in eye.  They talked to their plates.

The next week was the same.  It was months before I could sit by that jam and not tear up.  About the time I was able to eat it (you can imagine my horror watching the family eat it those first few months) we had went through the entire batch and it was on to something else.  It has been almost three years, but each week I STILL scan the table for a jar of strawberry jam...and there hasnt been ANY since that spring.