Peanut Butter Heals
Last Sunday, blogger Jennifer Perillo from In Jennie’s Kitchen lost her husband, Mikey, to a sudden heart attack. Although I don’t know Jennie personally, I have been reading tribute posts all over the blogosphere to her late husband.
And the posts involve peanut butter pies.
Jennie posted this on her blog, ” For those asking what they can do to help my healing process, make a peanut butter pie this Friday and share it with someone you love. Then hug them like there’s no tomorrow because today is the only guarantee we can count on.”
I’m sorry that I did not get around to making a peanut butter pie on Friday but I offer anything from my Peanut Butter Recipes collection in honor of Mikey.
All include chocolate and peanut butter.
I hope Mikey would approve.
No Bake Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Balls with High Protein Option
Please see my Peanut Butter Recipes Post for other ideas.
And as Jennie asked us to do, I am going to hug my loved ones like there’s no tomorrow.
That is, if she’ll stop dancing and movin’ and groovin’ and hold still for half a second and let me sneak a hug in.
And the next bite of peanut butter I have, I will offer it up for Mikey.
My deepest sympathies are with Jennie and her family. They are in my thoughts and prayers. Godspeed.
Have you ever known someone who was grieving who had a less than a “typical” request, i.e. skip the flowers and make a peanut butter pie?
Or have you known of anyone who before they died had certain unique requests?
Scott’s dad had an amazing sense of humor. He was funny, witty, and did not want people to be somber or melancholy at his funeral.
And his funeral was anything but a somber affair. People were laughing and telling stories and sharing fond memories of him.
Scott and his siblings were reminiscing about their childhood, things their dad did and said, and recounting special times and stories.
It was one of the happiest funerals (and three days of sitting shivah) that I’ve ever experienced.
Yes, tears were shed, the loss of their father was felt, mourned, and internalized.
But there was also joy and celebration of his wonderful life, not just the mourning of his death.
I hope my funeral, morbid as it sounds, is the same. Crack open the champagne, break out the chocolate, let the F-bombs and laughter fly.
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend with your loved ones.
P.S. Thanks for the entries on the $150 Anderson Seafoods Giveaway