Pasta and Lamb

Roxanne and I spoke about it at therapy on Wednesday, she reminded me that I had to work through the grief when it hit me that I'm still in transition.

This is the first Easter without Dad, and the last Easter at my childhood home.

Last Easter, after months of Dad saying how much he wanted lamb I made a reservation at Tanoreen in Bay Ridge -- a Middle Eastern restaurant known for its various lamb dishes and highly rated by Zagat, Yelp and others. Easter was early that year at the tail end of March. Initially it was going to be just my dad and I. With the India trip just a month away, I decided to invite Advaitha to join us.

The three of us sat at a round table in the center of a boisterously loud room. Dad was subdued. Looking back I realize he had surrendered conversation because of the inability to hear, something he grappled with as he aged. I think also that his frustration over the noisy patrons was a direct result of his annoyance toward me for not choosing an Italian restaurant. It wasn't until we were seated with water glasses filled and menus in hand that he mentioned wanting pasta and lamb.

Source: Kate & Julio's Kitchen Blog - click for recipe.

Pasta and lamb. Pasta and lamb is Italian. The choices are endless in our neighborhood. It would have been an easy fix even if it was Easter. One year later, it makes me sick to my stomach that I didn't gather him up and take him elsewhere.

It's a silly form of regret, I know. I was a good daughter and some days I could have been a better one. Oddly those days are the ones that creep back first. Flashes of my impatience and short-temper unleashed, the moments where my cocky arrogance spewed condescension...no good comes from that kind of reminiscing but its impression lingers still.

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