Casserole

Casseroles are comfort food. They are supposed to remind you of family, of love, and warmth. They say that when tragedy happens to a family, you should take them a casserole to help them in their grief; something about so they don’t have to worry about cooking. That’s what my grandma had told me at least. My grandma always made casseroles for her friends and neighbors whenever something bad happened: the bachelor next door broke his leg, the family down the street had a fire, the spinster two houses up had a car accident, this neighbor had a death in the family, that friend had a medical issue, or whatever tragedy it was.

I remember people brought casseroles to me and grandma when she took me in: potato casserole, green bean casserole, tuna casserole, hamburger casserole (which was just mac and cheese with hamburger), pizza casserole, spinach casserole, etc. It was a comfort back then; it was comfort food to help keep the two of us going while we adjusted, and we were given a lot of casseroles to eat.

Grandma made a lot of casseroles. It didn’t even have to be after something bad. I got a hundred on a test, we had tuna casserole. I joined the school chorus, potato casserole. I joined the soccer team, spaghetti casserole. I sang solo in chorus, pizza casserole. My team won a game, shrimp and scallop casserole. I made honor roll, chili casserole. I got a part time job, pork casserole. I graduated valedictorian, cheesy chicken casserole. I got into college, cheeseburger casserole. I won a scholarship, green bean casserole. The day before I left college, we had ranch burger casserole. I went off to college with three different casseroles because she was worried about me.

I did my best not to go home during college. I was focused on studying, on keeping my scholarship, on making the team, working a part time job, and just trying to make it so I wouldn’t have to move back home after I graduated. Grandma sent me a lot of casseroles and care packages while I was at college; she had sent them express mail so they would arrive before they spoiled. At least three times a month, I got a casserole in the mail. My dorm mates and frat brothers enjoyed the extra food but I didn’t; I didn’t want her to send me anything, I was trying to be independent. I stayed at college as much as I could so I took classes all four semesters, staying in my dorm and later my fraternity, instead of going home. Grandma knew that I was working hard; we stayed in contact and we would call each other once a week.

Grandma came to each one of my graduations but I didn’t acknowledge her. I would see her as I walked across the stage but I never went to see her or celebrate with her, not after the only time I did. My first college graduation, Grandma came and I planned to celebrate with her but we ended up going back to my dorm and I had to choke down her ranch burger casserole. I didn’t celebrate any of my graduations with her after that; I would leave with my friends and celebrate with them. She, somehow, always left a casserole behind in the fridge before she left, even if I never let her in.

I graduated with honors, a triple major and double minor, and jobs offers. I took the best one that was also the furthest from Grandma. I quickly found an apartment, my own place, and I didn’t go back home until Thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving after I left college, Grandma didn’t have a turkey and a big meal. Instead she had something that she called a Thanksgiving casserole: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, and I don’t remember what else. She sent me home with two more casseroles and I threw them out as soon as I got home. I cleaned the dishes out and sent them back a week or three later. I stopped going to Grandma’s house for holiday meals after that. Our calls dropped from once a week to eventually once a month.

I didn’t even notice when our monthly phone call didn’t happen, nor the four months that followed with no call. I got a call from an unexpected source: Grandma’s lawyer and her on again off again boyfriend, Teddy.

“Carson, that you?” Teddy asked when I picked up the phone.

“Yeah Teddy, what is it? I’m really busy.” I said, already growing irritated.

“Well, it’s about Adelaide. I’ve got some bad news. She’s been in the hos-” Teddy said.

“Just tell me what’s wrong and how much money she needs?” I interrupted him.

“Adelaide died, about two hours ago.” Teddy’s words surprised me.

I sank onto my couch and was silent for a few moments.

“How?” I finally asked.

“Addy’s been sick for a few years. She was told she had breast cancer shortly after you left for your first year in college. She went through treatment, surgery, chemo, and all that. She was in remission but she had this cough that wouldn’t go away. The cancer had spread to her lungs and a few other places. She didn’t want anyone to tell you, she didn’t want you to worry, or for it to interrupt your school work. She just lost this latest fight.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Addy didn’t want to bother you or disrupt your work. She kept quiet about it and didn’t really talk about it except with a few people.”

“Do I need to come and set up the funeral?” I ask, thinking about having to arrange everything and how long I would have to take off from work.

“No. Addy and I made up the plans before she passed. The funeral is this this Saturday. She left you the house and most of everything else so you will have to decide what to do with it all.” Teddy told me before he hung up.

Now I’m back in Grandma’s house and the neighbors are giving me casseroles again. She’s gone and buried, and I have a fridge full of casseroles: spinach casserole, green bean casserole, potato casserole, sweet potato casserole, corn casserole, pizza casserole, spaghetti casserole, tuna casserole, chicken casserole, hamburger casserole (still just mac and cheese with hamburger), cheeseburger casserole (it has bacon and extra cheese), fish casserole, and even a couple dessert casseroles.

I hate casseroles. They remind me too much of Grandma and how I took her for granted; I thought she would always be there. But she’s gone. All I have left are a bunch of empty casserole dishes.