Yes, that’s a real word. I didn’t think so when I typed it so I had to look it up even though my handy spell checker thought it was OK. Please don’t ask me why I chose to use it because I have no idea. It just jumped into my head and I had to get rid of it. So, now you have it.

Lately, I’ve been having déjà vu moments about my life with Diane and I find it very comforting because the memories of Diane were clear and bright for me, brought to life by simply cooking a familiar meal. Yesterday was the most profound event.

I had pork chops so I dug around in one of the kitchen drawers and found one of the recipes we collected during our “Hello Fresh” days. That was one of the things I relate to Diane’s final days. I was the cook and she was the cleanup crew. Her choice. I should have done the cleanup, too, but she wouldn’t let me

So, I cooked one special meal every day and served it to her in her recline. It didn’t occur to me until recently that she was training me to be self sufficient, preparing me for life without her. I was an okay cook before working with Hello Fresh but that program taught me many things about making simple meals way better than normal.

We never talked about what life would be like if one or the other of us passed away, like what would the survivor do to move on. When the subject came up it was restricted to who would go first. She was very adamant that it would be her, not me. I never took it serious, though, because life has a way of throwing curve balls so anything was possible. I could easily go first because I wasn’t careful and hurt myself frequently making trips to the emergency room routine. I’m sure she was convinced that I might cut my arm off one day while using my table saw. I never did, of course, but more than once I came very close to losing a couple of fingers. Little things like that worried her, I know, because I was never concerned about myself as much as she was.

About those pork chops … the first menu card I found was for honey-butter pork chops, which sounded very good to me. While gathering the things I needed, my mind drifted back just a little bit and I could easily envision Diane sitting in her chair, watching the news while waiting for her dinner. The TV was on, and my view from the kitchen had a partial view of her as I went about my tasks. Much of my work was done at the stove with her at my back so I knew she was watching me. The smells of cooking familiar food made it easy to have a silent conversation with her, just like old times. I even let the rice boil over like normal, and really mess up the stove, just like old times. I even managed to dump an entire dinner plate on the floor as I worked on cutting my pork chop into bite-sized pieces. It just flipped right off the counter and made a mess of rice and meat.

I quickly reclaimed the meat and left the rice for Max. Then I realized that this was all planned because I made twice as much rice as normal so there was plenty remaining to fill the plate.

Max did a great job cleaning up the spilled rice. Diane would have been proud.

Having her near has never been difficult for me since she left. I can almost see her next to me everywhere I go. Walking Max around the block I can feel her beside me as we automatically take each other by the hand and move quietly down the sidewalk. I miss that, and I can still feel her fingers entwined with mine . . .

Now you know where my mind goes when I’m left alone.