My grandmother died last week. It was sad and sudden to me. I honestly thought I had more years with her. My grandmother was a beautiful woman who spent some time modeling after she retired. She was a perfect size 10, which surprises me because I always thought she was more like a 6. She was tall and fashionable and will be greatly missed.
When someone dies, it is customary for people to bring food and my grandmother's death was no different.
I spent the five days following my grandmother's passing with my grandfather. It involved eating fried chicken, pot roast, sausage, brisket and so much peach cobbler I'm surprised I'm not a peach myself. Funeral food is rarely diet-friendly.
Also, every morning my grandfather took me to eat breakfast at the cafe he has been going to for 40 years. I asked for egg whites only on my first visit - but they were so yellow from grease, I gave up and shifted to grits for the rest of the week.
I saw a lot of family members I haven't seen in years and all of them commented on how much weight I've lost - heck, even my immediate family, who I saw at Christmas, also commented on it. Today, my mother sent me a photo she took of me and my brother after the funeral ... and I have to admit, I do look a lot different.
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