First of all, I’m really sorry for your loss. If you’re anything like me, you’re processing a lot, digging through the layers of grief, trying to find your way out to a sunnier day. Or maybe you’re still saying wtf. Either way, I get it.
I grew up happy and am a proud optimist. But when my mom developed early-onset dementia in her fifties, I watched her disintegrate in front of me over the course of three years. My aunt stepped in as a surrogate mother to help me through the grief, but little did I know, the same disease would overtake her the very next year. I wasn’t prepared for the crushing sadness of watching the light, love and memories of the most inspirational women in my life dissolve.
I didn’t know what to do other than to return to my routine and pretend that everything was fine. But after months of stuffing down my grief, I was so bloated with sadness that I was ripping at the seams. I desperately needed a plan.
So I baked. I baked and I baked and I baked because sitting still wasn’t an option. Baking gave me steps to follow. Measure. Sift. Grate. Fold. I baked the hell out of some biscuits. It was my therapy. Each session was a time to untangle, to cry and to remember, but always held the promise of a warm, doughy reward. And depending on the mood, I could devour them myself or use them as an invitation to gather family and friends.
There are no roadmaps for moving through grief, but there’s magic to moving your hands.
You can bake your way through this,
Amanda, Founder & Chief of Grief
Grief Biscuit is a project designed to bring some light to the darkness, process to the sorrow, and community to the solitude.