French Toast Fridays

finding joy in a sometimes joyless world.

Friday, September 1st

I am smelling cinnamon and maple syrup.  It’s French Toast Friday, which we’ve been doing for several weeks now.  It’s easy to make and the sweetness of dessert for supper brightens our outlook going into the weekend after a long hot week.

This week has been especially rough with the storm coming through and some news I received on Thursday.  A cousin, one of my best childhood friends, lost her son to our family curse of depression.  It’s something we’ve all grown up with and known since childhood.  We even have a name for it, “The Black Ass”. We’ve lived through the childhood trauma it imposed on our lives, and it is so unfair that it continues into our next generations.

I went to see her.  I had no words for her.  Nothing that could take away that shock and loss.  He left behind three beautiful blue-eyed children.  I cannot imagine looking into those beautiful eyes and not feeling a desire to stay, to work through the pain, for them.  I will say the Black Ass visited me many times when I was in my 20s and getting out of bed was a struggle, but my little blue eyed boy was my salvation.  

I’m not sure I can write much more about this week.  It’s too raw right now and I can’t stop thinking of the hole he left behind in so many people’s lives.  The outpouring of love I’ve seen on social media has been immense.  I didn’t know him personally, but he reminded me of my own son.  

I went to my son, and held him tightly.  I know that life has not been easy for him the past few years and especially the past year.  It seems that people who are putting on that happy face and laughing through life, may very well be the ones who are hurting the most behind closed doors.