When a Cake Isn't Just a Cake....

There are things that happen in our lives that change the very fiber of our beings. They remold and reshape some of our core elements. Things that we have always done and loved, become difficult or impossible to enjoy. When it is something terrible, often a lot of the very beautiful things that we are made of turn dark. Our creativity can stop flowing and our world actually shrinks, only allowing what we perceive as things we can handle. It is an incredibly difficult thing to face. To both love and hate something is an awful way to feel, but when it is jumbled in with trauma or grief, it can be unbearable.

When I lost my daughter, I lost two incredibly important pieces of me. I don't think I really noticed at first, but over time, it became evident. Not only was I not doing these things that come naturally to me, but I was avoiding them at all costs. They evoked something in me that I did not think I could handle. They were two of my greatest joys, outside of my family, and I didn't think I deserved to have them. Who was I to be happy when my daughter wasn't given that chance? So, I stopped. My life went into a sort of recovery mode. Every move I made, each day going forward, was robotic. I was lacking the capacity to even entertain the thought of letting that joy back in.

The first of my personal joys that I lost was my ability to write. I have always been a writer at heart, and I lost that. I couldn't do it. Aside from a few poems here and there, the last thing, before this blog, that I wrote with any heart was her obituary. In that piece of my heart, I actually stated that I had no words. I didn't. I mean, what do you say to yourself or the world at a time like that? There isn't anything you can. I stopped writing then. There was something completely preventing me from putting words onto paper. Even though my head felt like it was going to explode, my heart just couldn't handle it. This blog changed that for me. It created a safe place for me to really let it out and let it go. It was a blessing for me, and set me on a path to recovery I did not expect.

The other personal joy I had ripped from me is cake decorating. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it was a creative outlet for me that I did not have to share with anyone. Yes, in the years since her death, I have made a few cakes, for birthdays and such, but I have not actually created a cake since before she died. I let all my tools get lost, my vision go black, and my joy of the kitchen all together disappear. I haven't truly enjoyed the kitchen in years. I have learned to hate shopping at the grocery store. It has become something crippling. I am hoping to change that.

Tomorrow would have been my daughter's tenth birthday. I am making a cake. I don't mean baking and just frosting. I will be using all my repurchased tools and everything in my mind's toolbox to make this cake. It is going to be her cake. It will be a symbol of growth and love. I will put my all into this cake; my heart, my soul, and my tears. My daughter will have a beautiful hand crafted cake like I used to make. It will hold all my hopes and dreams I once had for her. This cake will be her monument from me. I don't work in clay, I work in cake.

This cake will not be just another cake. It will be everything that needed to be said, and should have been, over the last ten years, all rolled into lavender frosting and pearls.