Egg Rolls at the spa

santa hatThis morning I indulged in a little self care (it’s been a rough week) and had a pedicure from my favorite, Tina.  She was dressed in festive red with a Santa hat, and as I got settled, she gave me a box of chocolates.  I gave her a Starbucks gift card, as Starbucks is next door and I often run into her there.

It was early, so the place wasn’t full yet.  Vee and Ken own the place, and Vee was there, and Ken rolled in about 9:45 with their darling daughter.  She was carrying a tinfoil tray and I said, “Oh! Did you bring cookies?”

Not cookies, but egg rolls.  Egg rolls! Ken and his daughter began handing them out.  Why not have an egg roll with my latte and pedicure?  And it occurred to me what a thoughtful thing that was to do, to bring the food of their culture to celebrate the holidays on Christmas Eve eve.  I’ve never had an egg roll at 9:45 in the morning, but it was delicious and I would do it again.

I’m hyper-aware of people’s thoughtfulness right now.  My dad died three days ago, and img_3003normal life gets absolutely pierced with grief at random moments and usually when someone says something really kind, like ‘what can I do for you’ or ‘I’m praying you and your family’ or ‘I remember at your wedding your dad told me Americans don’t drink enough champagne, so I’m working on that’.

He has been gone three days now, which in some strains of Jewish thought is the amount of time it takes for the soul to leave the body.  If that is the case, then he is really gone now and he will start hearing me talk to him, which I have been doing.  Mostly it’s to thank him, and tell him I miss him already, and to ask him please to give Mom a sign that everything will be okay.  And then, because I’m being rather theologically decadent, I tell myself that he is so busy being awestruck and greeting his parents and his sister and his in-laws and best friend that he hasn’t turned his attention back to us.

My dad had a pedicure at the spa once.  He and my mom were visiting, and their feet needed work.  He was charming the ladies and joking with them while Mom rolled her eyes.  He was delighted to get his toenails trimmed, and his callouses scrubbed.  What incarnate things we are; how little it takes to make us happy.

Had they been serving egg rolls on that day when he got a pedicure, I imagine he would have had one with his latte.  He was that kind of guy, generous and grateful for the generosity of others, whatever form that generosity took.

I will miss him more than I know, three days into this new reality.  His absence will not be filled, but it will be soothed by kindness, by thoughtfulness, and lattes, and champagne, and egg rolls.

Requiem in pacem.


9 thoughts on “Egg Rolls at the spa

  1. Yes! To all of this. The loving, and the missing, and the eggroll, and the champagne. May grace and peace and comfort and joy be yours, dear friend. Hugs and prayers.

  2. Yes, that is a rough week. Good that you went to the spa to take care of yourself. Your father will surely be missed, as those who love well and much are so dearly missed. Hugs and prayers to you.

  3. Beth. So glad you sent that pic of your dad in the pedicure chair. Would have had a hard time picturing him there without it. 🙂 Will miss his vibrancy, quick wit and great sense of humor. Conversation was always lively with him around. Haven’t seen him in a long time but my memory of him is strong. We are feeling sad also.

  4. Dad had been gone for over 16 years and I still miss him. And I do talk to him often and he did give me a sign that all was good. Thinking of you.

  5. Dad had been gone for over 16 years and I still miss him. And I do talk to him often and he did give me a sign that all was good. Thinking of you.

  6. What a priceless photo of the pedicure. That is just great.

    And by the way, I got a VERY clear sign from my dad one afternoon years after he died. It was remarkable. So stay alert for the messages from your dad. They are sure to come when you most need them.

  7. Oh Beth. What a wonderful piece. Your parents are such very special people—and I say ‘are’ intentionally: they never really really leave us. I’m thinking of all of you.



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