Were They Really Here?

Eight years ago Mom passed away on Valentine's Day, and the November before my Grandmother did also -- Bunia, we called her. Our lives centered around the church and the customs brought from the Ukraine were a part of our family ritual. At the time of coming, 1914 for Bunia and 1899 for my Mom's family, the place they left was called Galicia, part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Traditional Ukrainian dishes were a part of our normal diet, but especially so at Christmas and Easter. Since the main food-makers of these two elaborate meals were now gone, I gladly took the role for myself. How I wish now that I had been there when they were preparing the foods so that I could know first-hand all the ways the dishes were made unique by these two wonderful cooks.
It takes pre-planning and about a week of daily work to get everything ready. Why I think of this today, I don't know. Sometimes I just miss them so much, and special memories come to mind. I couldn't do the whole Easter dinner this year. So, the last full meal I made was in 2005. That year I had great confidence at the start. After all, the Paskas and Babkas baked previously had turned out beautiful and delicious. My goal was to have everything done on Friday. I didn't want to rush last-minute on Saturday before going to the church with my basket of food to have it blessed. Thursday was set aside for bread baking, and I began with the Babkas. The large recipe made plenty to share with family shut-ins, children and grandchildren. It was early afternoon when I began the Paska dough and my time was limited because I had piano students coming. Soon after teaching ended, I started making the braided decoration for the top of the bread. Hmmm... why did it seem so dry? As I walked through the kitchen, I glanced over at the mixing bowl. There, in the bowl, were the eggs, sugar and butter! Well, the sorry dough was baked and I can tell you this. Our dogs celebrated Easter very well!
Still, I had set my goal and wanted to stick to the Friday deadline. By the time the next batch of bread was ready to bake it was several hours into the next day. I was quietly moving about the kitchen washing dishes and bowls when it happened, and to this day I can't explain exactly what it was or how I know that what I write is true. My Mother and Grandmother were there, in the kitchen, with me. I knew they were there, and I knew that they were proud of me. How I wish that I could duplicate what happened, yet their presence was so strong I can still experience the feel of that moment in time.
I don't believe that they still walk this earth and I don't really believe in ghosts. What I do believe is that they are asleep in the Lord, waiting for the second coming of Jesus Christ when we will all be judged by what is in The Book of Life. Then, God willing, we will sit together at the feet of the Lord with worship, praise and thanksgiving. My final thought is that I don't have to explain it, but just appreciate that it happened.