Growing up, my mother rarely made a special family meal. She always told me that it was passed down through our family for generations upon generations. I always loved it and it acted as a comfort food for the entire family. Every time there was a death within the family, either my parents or grandparents would hold a family gathering at which we had this meal to lift our moods. But during these gatherings, however, it appeared that only my mother and grandparents were allowed to be in the kitchen. I always thought, Of course they wouldn't want too many people in there while they're busy cooking. It seemed like the most realistic reason at that time. Anyway, it was always a valued family tradition to me.

After my father died when I was eleven years old, my mother told me that he would still be with us in a way. She hosted one of these family get-togethers the very next day. My family's company and the great food helped me to get through the depression I was in.

About a week ago, after the death of my brother, my mother asked me if I could help out in the kitchen on the day of our family gathering.

Wanting to finally know the family secret recipe, I, of course, agreed to do it.

When I had showed up, my well-aged grandfather handed me a small paper on which the words "garlic", "cheddar", "cumin", "flour" and "your choice of dipping sauce" were listed. He told me to follow him into the kitchen for the rest of the ingredients, which I did surprisingly happy given the occasion. It was there I saw my mother butchering the corpse of my brother.

Now I know what she meant by "Your father will still be with us in some way".

I guess now... so will my brother.

Written by Asdfpotato