I had a Peanut Buster Parfait this past weekend. I am not only telling you this because I am trying to alleviate the guilt I “should” have (I am 99% reserved to being gluten and dairy and refined sugar-free) but because I cried while I ate it (and NOT because I am 99% reserved to being gluten and dairy and refined sugar-free) as my mother L.O.V.E.D. Peanut Buster Parfaits. That was why I ordered it, after all.

I have been doing what I can lately – WHATEVER I can –  to channel her; to try and live in her light; to do anything to feel her, see her, and hear her again. As time passes it sometimes seems like it is impossible to remember – with that crisp, vibrant clarity – ALL of the things that make her so absolutely wonderful and so dearly missed. I mean, I could go on for days and weeks on everything about her that I love so much; I can wax poetically and emphatically – with absolute ease – about what makes her the unique and wonderful woman she is; the kind, gentle, funny, and beautiful woman that I care so deeply for.

But I have found that while in the midst of this grief – in both rejoicing her and missing her beyond comprehension – it’s been hard to focus my attention and memory on exactly what her laugh or voice sounded like; what she smelled like; what she felt like. And I feel guilty that I am having trouble recalling it. I feel ashamed that I can’t just sit and gently close my eyes and hear her infectious laugh, listen to her sweet voice, or feel her soft hair that I would often brush, in between my fingertips. It’s like I can but I can’t. I know, the sense all of this makes is astounding, isn’t it?

So I ate my feelings by way of a Peanut Buster Parfait. I ate it to honor her memory; to try and share in the things that delighted her; to channel some deeply rooted memories from years ago; to alleviate this indescribable sadness I have. And while being completely honest, to cure the insatiable sweet tooth I’ve had for quite some time now.

And it did NOT disappoint. I took that thing down in less than two minutes, enjoyed every second of that sweet, crunchy, salty, and gooey amazingness. And I didn’t even feel guilty about it. The tears that streamed down my face weren’t out of shame, hell I was proud I could hoover some Dairy Queen like a champ. No, the tears were all brought on by a deeply rooted memory of my mom and the first time she ever ordered one in front of me.

It was the DQ in Menomonee Falls. I couldn’t have been much older than seven, maybe eight, and I remember thinking, “Now THAT is a sundae…” And from that point on, whenever I went to Dairy Queen, I got a Peanut Buster Parfait. Because how could I not?

Just an FYI: if you have never experienced Dairy Queen’s 3 layers of chocolate – salty – sweet – creamy deliciousness known as the PBP, than I HIGHLY encourage you to go get yourself one. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW. Do yourself a favor and bask in the glory that is this fudgy deliciousness without a worry in the world. Your taste buds will thank you.

So, with happy taste buds and a heavy heart, I sat in the back of my best friend’s car, weeping quietly as we rode off into the stunning Washington sunset. Maybe I was extra emotional as my trip was coming to an end; maybe being out in the beauty of nature’s brevity had me some kind of way; maybe connecting more deeply with my soul through nature, laughter, exercise, and stellar slumber had me at a higher level; I don’t know.

But what I do know is this past weekend not only brought me closer to The Universe’s infinite energy and its soul-igniting ferocity, but to some next-level connection to my maker; my best friend; my heart and soul; my mother. And although I still have to close my eyes super tight and try to drown out all of the other noise in my head while feverishly focusing my attention, I can hear her. I can see her. I can smell her. And I can feel her. She’s everywhere and she’s in me – my heart, my soul, my blood, my guts. She’s here. And in that, I have found, if only for the moment, a deep solitude and infinite gratitude.

So, you may be thinking, “All of these feelings and revelations were brought on by a 3 layer, magically mouthwatering sundae?”

Nah, but it definitely sweetened the deal.