Note: this post was originally posted at my old pagan-tumblr. I moved it here in the interest of keeping all my things together, and also because the links to a lot of the pictures on the original post broke. At the bottom of the post I added a bunch of extra pictures I didn’t share in the original post.
This year I brought the dead home. (As put by the lovely Ms. Dirty herself in our email correspondence.)
As the sun set on the 21st, I prepared for Heilig Avondmaal. I stressed. I started cooking some dishes too early (pork chops) and others too late (fry bread). I counted my blessings that I was the only one physically present for this – me and the ancestors – because anyone else in the house would have sent me over the deep end for stress.
Tatws Pum Munud.
Fry bread, pre-cooking.
Fryin’ the fry bread.
Burnin’ the fry bread.
I cooked food for my Irish, Scottish, Welsh, Cherokee/Choctaw, and Dutch bloodlines, to soothe my hunger as well as the hunger of my ancestors. We were all lost and hungry, and so I invited them into a warm home to dine with me, cementing my place in my own home as well.
Plate of dinner + ancestor altar and their plates.
The food was frackin’ delicious. I’m an awesome cook when I put my mind to it. (The dessert was store-bought, because I have a limit of energy and ability. Also I forgot to take a picture of it.) I burned myself pretty badly with the fry bread, but it was worth it. So good.
And I made a lot of food. There are leftovers still. (Mind you, after Heilig Avondmaal I was in Vancouver for a while and just got home a few days ago, but still.)
It was a strange thing, because I made this meal to reconnect with my Oma, specifically. I miss her a lot, and this supper helped me reconnect with her spirit. The applesauce cooking made the house smell like memories, and I felt like she was there with me. Then I went to Van and on Christmas Day Opa, her second husband, had a heart attack and died two days later. So we spent a few days going through estate things.
I’m not very sad about Opa – I mean, I’m sad. I don’t mean to sound callous here. But he was my step-Opa, and since Oma died he really hadn’t been himself. It was almost as if we mourned him when we mourned her, and we were just waiting for his body to catch up. I’m honestly surprised he made it for a year and four months (to the day) after she went; they were very much in love. I thought he would go quickly after.
They’re together now, and that’s a good thing. And next year I’ll be sharing my Heilig Avondmaal with him too.
(And this is also why this post is so late coming. I started it earlier, and then Christmas + Opa’s death sort of took over all my time.)