Not yet

Have I mentioned the crazy shit my husband has to put up with from me? Yes, well good because I can jump straight in to this post.

I was originally going to write about the food crisis I have been going through this week but as I wrote it, it became more about my grandmother. How does this have to do with my saintly husband? Let me start at the beginning, kind of.

My food crisis started with my crazy ass friends on Facebook, I know a) I have friends and b) they are crazier than me! They were talking about food and someone mentioned Stella D'Oro and I immediately had a craving to find the breakfast treats that my grandmother used to buy. I remember how she would sit and eat them, drinking her coffee from her lavender mug which was her favorite.

She has been gone almost 8 years. I lost my grandfather when I was very young and they were the only set of grandparents I knew. Still doesn't tie in with the husband bit, its coming.

I couldn't find the Stella D'Oro, and it upset me. I felt like I was denied this connection with her. I had been thinking of her since Valentine’s Day. That night my husband and I had gone out to dinner. In the booth beside us an older couple was having dinner and the husband had arranged for a barbershop quartet to come in and sing to his wife. They were wonderful. I couldn't tell you the songs they sang but one, when their voices began to sing "Let me call you sweetheart I'm in love with you" the tears came without warning. My husband just looked at me. All I could do was try to explain, while trying not to make audible crying noises, of how my Nonnie loved this song and would sing it, the emotion had grabbed me so intensely. I could hear her voice singing it in her apartment. I was using a napkin to hide my face hoping not to draw attention to myself, which probably drew more attention to me. My husband smiled and understood even though I was so embarrassed and felt terrible that I had ruined our dinner by bursting out into tears. It took me the rest of dinner to regroup. The song played over and over, her voice filling my head.

She had lost my grandfather when she was in her early 60's and I would ask her if she was anxious to see him. She always said, "Not yet." When I heard that song I pictured them, together, like when I was younger. Ever since my heart has ached to see them; to hear them scold me in Portuguese not to eat out of the peanut butter jar with a spoon; to play cards with them; to get hugs and kisses and to be told how much I am loved and how proud they are of me.