Beef Stroganoff

On Divorce, Loss, and Beef Stroganoff

October 25, 2017 by chrissy@mythankfultable.com

As in, you don’t really make them ever because, that is their thing, and they do it so well you don’t even attempt it?

That’s how it is with Beef Stroganoff; this was his recipe.

When you are involved in a divorce, no matter how hard you try, it’s complicated, and messy.

Even under the best of circumstances. Add a few states in between and an issue of addiction, there are very few things that are easy. There were some ugly and dark parts. I wasn’t always the nicest version of myself. I own that.

I did, however recognize and encourage the value of relationship between my children and their father. I knew in my heart that he loved them even when he couldn’t get out of his own way. And love them he did.

To draw a line between your way and his way and move forward, recognizing that this requires you to step back. Focusing on your children, and their relationship with their dad is non-stop-in-your-head battle. It’s a reminder that no, this isn’t about you. It’s about them.

You counterweight as much as you can and buffer as well. You become strong and keep your mouth shut as much as possible and take the phone outside when you don’t see eye to eye. When stuff goes wrong, and it did go wrong, you do what you need to do to be bigger, stronger, and not lose your positivity.

It’s such a dance. It’s like dancing on glass and looking good doing it. That broken glass dance is exhausting.

My kid’s Dad loved to cook. It was a common language we had, we cooked for the people we loved. We cooked for each other. He was an off-trail skier and an off-recipe cook, and he made it look easy. On one of our first real dates, he taught me how to fry an egg. And that was that.

So, of course in the break up, he kept his Kitchen Aid, I kept the Williams Sonoma Baking Pans, and he kept the Stroganoff recipe.

That’s the unrealistic and semi-humorous version.

I vaguely remember trying to make this when the kids and I first moved into our home, and it being an epic fail. I never made it again.

Then came the phone call one night, and suddenly, unexpectedly, he is gone. Forever.

You think about the last phone conversation when you said, “I love you.” and meant it. Your last texts where he tells you that you are an amazing mother, and you tell him how much the kids love him and need him. You invited him to the Easter table to share a holiday dinner with his family.

And those are the last words you say to each other.

The last words, thank God, were kind and filled with grace, and you are given this gift of ending things, on a good note. So many conversations that could have been our last were not, but this one was.

He told his son he was proud, he told his daughter he loved her.

And then he was gone.

So on the six month anniversary, when your son asks you to make Beef Stroganoff, you research every recipe and pray it comes out better than the epic fail from a few years before.

As if your entire happiness rests on this one meal.

Your son even goes to the grocery store with you to buy the ingredients, and reads the list to you so you don’t forget anything.

And you cook as if your whole heart is in it. Because, really, it’s what your kids remember, and its a good thing…you don’t want to mess it up. You pull out the crockpot to make sure the meat is tender. You add Cream of Mushroom Soup to the recipe to make sure the sauce is the right consistency. You hang out in the kitchen to watch over it. You and your memories.

The kitchen is where you do your therapy anyways.

So, you make the meal, and all of heaven makes sure that it comes out just right. You sit with your children, a threesome who have weathered quite a bit in the last decade, and you remember.

You think to yourself, maybe he might even have liked it, even though you know he would have added something else. That’s just what he did.

For once in your family, even the leftovers are eaten.

So many times I call my table “My Thankful Table,” because that’s where my heart lives. I have chosen to be thankful. In all things.

But for this one meal, with these two amazing children, my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude.

For all we had, and all we lost, and all that the future will hold.

Until we meet again.

Thank you for coming to the table,

Chrissy

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