On life, and breakfast
Sometimes life gets in the way of breakfast.
Despite the fun and frivolity this outlet (hopefully) provides, it's a passion project, not my full time gig which means that when shit gets real in life, this is often the first thing that takes a backseat.
In the time since my last post, life—or more accurately, death—has been happening and suddenly waxing about the merits of eggs benny just seems a little empty.
In mid-May, one of my friends passed away. She was 36. She fought a long, brave, and painful battle with cancer. Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
We never got to have brunch together. Not for lack of wanting to—she was busy. She led a full life that often meant she wasn't physically near me. She lived big. She loved big. She laughed even bigger. But I couldn't tell you how she liked her eggs, or what she took in her coffee.
When somebody dies, especially somebody near your age, and especially somebody close to you, it makes you think about things differently. It forces you to evaluate your relationships, your choices, and your path. It makes you think about things. How you spend your time and who you spend it with are really what makes life meaningful.
She was from Cape Breton. And we went to her home town for her funeral. The village she was from is incredibly beautiful. But like most rural areas in these parts, it was also empty and carried a certain sadness of a place that was once bustling but is now dependent upon visitors to keep it alive. And at that time of the year, most of the restaurants, shops, and even hotels were closed. But still, we had breakfast.
We went to the only game in town that was open. We shared a greasy meal with the locals who looked at us in our suits and dresses with curiosity, even though they all knew why we were there. The church where she was buried loomed over us. Beckoning. Making it hard for us to forget why we were really gathered together on that beautiful sunny morning.
I didn't take a picture of my meal.
My coffee cup had somebody else's lipstick on it. The potatoes tasted like old grease. But the toast was homemade. And the company was good. Even if the occasion wasn't.
A good breakfast is an important start to any day. But especially to days that are hard and exhausting in a way that no good night's sleep can fix. And sure, the food is important, but the company you enjoy it with is what really matters.
So for the time being, DejeunEH is on hold. And in the absence of talking about what I had and where I had it, I encourage you all to just go eat. Eat with your friends. Eat with the people you love. Call somebody you've been meaning to call and eat with them. Hell, eat by yourself if that's what you want to do, that can be scary too. But be present. Put your phone down. Don't take pictures of your food. Just eat. Savour everything about it. Even when there's crusted pink lipstick from a stranger's lips on your mug.
See ya some other time.