Mom's Celebration Chocolate Cake

It had been over four years since Matilda had eaten a piece of chocolate cake. The only chocolate cake she had ever eaten was her mother’s special, secret-recipe, Celebration Chocolate Cake. Her mother had made this cake for every celebration and special occasion of Matilda’s life. That is, when she was alive to do it.

Halfway through her sophomore year of college, Matilda’s mom lost her battle with cancer. At Matilda's graduation, there was no special chocolate cake. When she got her first job after college, the Celebration Chocolate Cake was absent. More importantly, so was her mother.

A few years after getting her first "real" job, she received her first big promotion. Celebrations with friends and family were nice, but something was missing. Matilda decided it was time to bring out the chocolate cake.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, Matilda drove to her Aunt Vicky’s house. Vicky was her mother’s sister and she told Matilda she would give her the recipe and help her make the cake.

Matilda and Vicky had an enjoyable time making the cake. Matilda was even more appreciative of her mom’s cake than ever before after following the complex, time-consuming recipe.

Once the cake was done, Matilda made some homemade frosting. After the cake had cooled down, she piped frosting decoratively onto the cake. Then she made some raspberry lemonade to pair with the cake. Eventually, she couldn’t think of more ways to stall. It was time to eat the cake.

The cake was delicious. Much better than any cake bought from a store or made from a box. Yet, it didn’t taste quite as good as when her mother made it. Vicky noted Matilda’s disappointment. “What’s wrong, Mattie?” she asked.

Matilda sat silent for a moment. “The cake is good, I know,” she started. “But it doesn’t taste the same.”

“Well of course it doesn’t taste the same,” Vicky replied. “It will never be the same without your mother.”

“I guess she used the ‘secret ingredient of love’ huh?” Matilda scoffed.

“Probably, yes. No feeling can match that of a mother’s tender loving care. But what your cake is missing is the ingredient of your mother.”

“What do you mean? I followed the recipe exactly.”

“Yes, you did. But your mother didn’t. She always snuck a bit of extra cream into her batter” Vicky revealed with a wink.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Matilda laughed.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

They continued to eat their cake, fondly remembering the woman they both missed dearly. Vicky noticed Matilda’s smile drop.

“I just,” Matilda began. “I just thought that if I made this cake, it would feel like she was still here.”

“Well, that’s just silly!”

“Excuse me?”

“Of course your mother is here! The memory doesn’t come from the taste of the chocolate cake, it comes from her making the cake. It comes from the cake being present at your celebrations. She doesn’t live in the memory of the cake; the cake lives in the memory of her!”

“I guess I never thought about it that way.”

“Listen sweetie,” Vicky consoled. “Grief is a powerful force. I know that you miss your mother. I miss her, too. I would give anything to see her again, but making her cake isn’t going to make that happen.

“I encourage you to keep making this cake. Carry on the tradition of the Celebration Chocolate Cake! But don’t expect it to be exactly the same as when your mother made it. It was never about the cake. It was about your mother showing that she loved you and cared for you and wanted to share in your success and joy.”

“Thanks Vicky, I really needed that,” Matilda admitted as Vicky pulled her in for a hug.

“I know, Mattie,” Vicky consoled with a tender pat on Matilda’s head.

Matilda looked up at her aunt and smiled. “How about another piece of cake?”