Where's the Beef Stew?

Welcome !
My very first blog. I have wasted most of my day, stuck in a mood that won't let me go. All week long my family has been hounding me to make my famous beef stew. The gynormous package of stew beef has been glaring at me every time I open the fridge for days now... It is really a staple winter dish in our family and has been for generations, we are Irish and good stew know how is a must. My stew is a spin off my Nana's and I believe it comes from my Papa's mother who lived in County Cork. Anyways, I woke up this morning knowing that I must use the beef today or I would end up throwing it out. I dragged my ass into the kitchen, made myself coffee and stood staring at the package, cutting board and knife. I began to cry. Here is the thing about the stew....It was my Papa's favorite and I used to make it for him and bring it to him at the nursing home all the time. It was one of the few times he would actually eat vigorously. Today, would be the first time that I would prepare it since his passing. I know that it has been since April and I also know that it was soooo time for him to stop suffering, BUT my heart is heavy for him just the same. I avoided the stew so that I could avoid the tears that would fall, adding extra salt to the broth. Sigh. I did the only thing I could do, I got the IPOD, put on some Damien Rice and began to slice onions without rinsing my knife in cold water first. The enzymes and the grief accompanied  the misery of Damien's laments nicely. I made the stew.... Tonight we will gather and my brood will ladle piping stew into deep bowls and dip crusty bread repeatedly sopping up the history of love that exists. I know three things for sure.

1. My family will come round the table eagerly and bellies will be warm and full.
2. My Nana would be thrilled to know that I carry on the tradition of comfort food.
3. I will think of my Papa with every bite.

This is the hard part of getting old. Not the wrinkles or the sagging or the new belly fat (gross btw) it is this element that I am experiencing today that sucks the most. As you age, the people who represent comfort from your youth inevitably pass on and leave your world. It's really hard. Really really hard. And coupled with that sucky realization, one day it will be me....With each passing day, the days of my life walk me closer to the gate.
So I make the stew and cry a little and am grateful that I cry hysterically over stew. It is confirmation that I am living real and I am fortunate to know, that this is the point of life. Live real even when real sucks. So Simple, and yet we struggle as humans to get this right.
I wish you all, all the love from my heart and stew.