Last week I made two kugels for a shiva meal.
A friend died. And I owed her the kugels.
When my mother died, this friend made her dairy-free shiva/sweet kugel for me. Something I could eat, with my allergies to dairy.
Nine months later, when my father died, she made another shiva kugel for me. It is filled with sugar and so sweet and crunchy. I loved it. It gave me some sweetness in a very difficult time.
She gave me the recipe. I made this kugel for so many meals and for many happy occasions. I told her how much I enjoyed making it.
One day, about seven years ago, when I was visiting her when she was ill in the hospital, she turned to me and said, “Are you still making the shiva kugel. Because you can make it for my funeral shiva!”
I told her I would glad to do it, but I hope she lived for a very long time.
Last week, at age 86, she died. I honestly did not believe she would. She has fought her way out of so many illnesses. But this time, she could not. I knew what I had to do. I told her daughter that I would make her mother’s shiva/sweet kugel for the shiva meal as she had done for me. I was thanked for the offer, but she told me that I did not need to do make the kugel because she was having the meal catered.
I honestly was heartbroken. I promised my friend that I would make the kugel for her, as she had done for me. It was the last gift I could give to her. But I could not argue with her daughter. So I kept quiet.
The next day I had a phone call. My friend’s daughter was calling to ask me if I would still make the kugel. The caterer was not going to make any. (It is impossible to have a shiva meal without a kugel!) And could I make a dairy free kugel because there was a family member who could not eat dairy. This is important because most kugels are filled with cheese.
“Of course I can. And yes, your mother’s shiva kugel had NO dairy,” I replied.
I knew at that moment my friend was still in charge. She was a strong-willed and determined, kind and caring person, but when she wanted you to do something, she charged forward till it happened. She obviously wanted her shiva kugel at her shiva meal, and I had to make it.
So I did. Her daughter told me that people told her that it tasted just like her Mom’s kugel. I smiled. At her shiva, people could still smell her cooking. They could taste her food. They could feel her presence. Her kugel brought her spirit to the shiva.
May my friend Sandi’s name and memory always be for a blessing. Not only was I enriched by having her for a friend, so was my family.
I will miss her. But every time I make the kugel, I will know that I fulfilled my promise to her and remember her friendship.
zicharonot 