family

Feast of the Seven Fishes

~ rdicarne ~ 4 Comments

The Feast of the Seven Fishes is an Italian-American Christmas Eve tradition “stemming from Southern Italian Catholic fasting practices that abstained from meat before Christmas Day, known as La Vigilia.”

Christmas Eve was Chuck’s favorite night of the whole year! I can’t imagine my favorite night being the night I worked the hardest, but that was Chuck. Food was his love language, and keeping the tradition alive and watching his family enjoy it gave him great satisfaction.

In the early years of our marriage, we had Christmas Eve with my family, whose dinners centered around ham—not Chuck’s favorite. For ten years, we hosted Chuck’s family on Christmas Day, where Chuck recreated the Seven Fishes—shrimp, bacala, mussels, whiting, smelts, salmon rolls, octopus, and the star, fried calamari. Chuck also prepared a full Italian “Sunday” dinner: pasta, meats, and sides. The meal followed an antipasto and was always accompanied by good Italian bread for dipping. We lingered at the table for hours, and the dishwasher ran nonstop.

A couple of years after my dad passed away, Chuck and I took over the Christmas Eve festivities and the Feast of the Seven Fishes, and the big Italian “Sunday” dinner became our tradition with my mom, siblings, and their growing families. We have a small house, and once everyone was seated at the table, no one got up unless it was a real necessity. As the family grew, a kid’s table was set up in the family room. Yet, even with the cramped quarters, there was always room for another place at the table for anyone who needed a place to be on Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve was sacred in our house. Chuck was a chef working in small retail venues, where he prepared food for sale in the markets. The weeks leading up to Christmas were super busy, and Chuck would often work 14-16 straight ten-hour days, but that never stopped him from preparing that Christmas Eve dinner for our family. My own children made celebrating with us on Christmas Eve a non-negotiable when they got married!

Eight years ago, Chuck had quadruple bypass surgery, which literally saved his life. That year, my sister and brother-in-law took over Christmas Eve hosting duties. Chuck still made the mussels, whiting, bacala, and of course, fried the calamari at my sister’s while they provided the other fish dishes. The Italian portion of the meal was replaced by the Polish tradition of ham and pierogi. Connie and Mike continue to host this night, which the entire family looks forward to.

This Christmas Eve will be bittersweet – our first without Chuck. The Feast of the Seven Fishes tradition will carry on thanks to my daughter, Angela, who is making the bacala and octopus salad, and my brother-in-law, Mike, who is making the mussels and bought an electric deep fryer to make the calamari. I am sure Chuck will be looking down on us, feeling proud and happy that his spirit and memory live on in the food, family, and fun of the evening.

Forty-six Days and Counting

~ rdicarne ~ 29 Comments

Forty-six days ago, I lost the love of my life. A trip to the ER for what we thought were simple GI issues began an 18-day hospital stay that ended with his death. As it turns out, Chuck had a rare upper GI cancer that had spread to his brain and bone marrow before he even exhibited any symptoms. He never had a chance.

Those days in the hospital were frustrating and exhausting. We began with such hope, and every day the red tape of the healthcare system eroded it. Waiting for bloodwork results, scans, procedures, and pathology reports was excruciating. By the time we had a diagnosis, it was time to say goodbye and let him go.

I thought that night was the worst night of my life, but little did I know the days ahead would be even harder. Once the numbness of the traumatic hospital experience and the funeral wore off, the grief took hold of me.

Chuck and I met when I was fifteen and he was seventeen. We were high school sweethearts who stood the test of time and celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary this past August. This coming December would have been 52 years together—practically my whole life – and he was my entire life! I don’t know how to do life without him.

Although my commute home from school is only 10 minutes, I called him every day, and we talked until he saw me pull into the driveway. We loved being together and were best friends. Every facet of our lives meshed together like a well-oiled machine. Now my life has come to a screeching halt.

Even though I am back in the classroom, and my students brighten my days, I am struggling to make sense of the unimaginable loss. How will I find the strength to move forward without Chuck by my side? My head knows that grieving takes time – lots of it, but my heart is broken, and the sadness often consumes me.

Writing has always been a way for me to process life and feelings. Below is the first poem I wrote since Chuck’s death. I am sure that writing will help me through this grieving process. Thank you for letting me share some of it with you.

Cancer came like a marauding pirate
Cunning, ruthless,
Pillaging my lover’s body
Plundering life as I knew it.

No time to climb to the crow’s nest 
And plan for the fight
No time to batten down the hatches
We were hit broadside.

Casting me into a sea of devastation,
I am a rudderless vessel, 
whirling in an eddy of grief
unable to fathom the loss.

A veil of sadness covers my days
Marooned on an island of despair
My body anchored to the weight of my grief
Dehydrated from the deluge of tears.

Adrift and disoriented,
I am lost in the daily struggle
of disbelief and loneliness
Drowning in heartache and pain.

Love you forever!

Finding Purpose

~ rdicarne ~ 5 Comments

Getting older is not for the faint of heart. It brings new aches and pains, medical issues, and many hard decisions. All of that can feel overwhelming at times, but getting older also brings new freedom—well, at least it has for me.

I subscribe to Beth Kempton on Substack (https://bethkempton.substack.com/) and have taken a few of her online workshops. Beth sends out a Soul Circle Journal Note to her subscribers each week. It focuses on one word and how it relates to our writing practice. This week’s word was PURPOSE. Beth’s words have stuck with me since I read them on Monday.

“If we always force ourselves to begin with the purpose of a thing before any words have flowed onto the page, we are in danger of (1) missing out on what it could be because we are too attached to what we think it should be.”

Getting back to aging. Beyond my writing practice, I started thinking back to my purpose/s in life over the years and how much time I wasted on what I thought “should be” instead of focusing on what “could be.” My younger self was constantly worried about being a good enough student, friend, wife, mother, or teacher. How did I measure up to everything and everyone around me?

I have no regrets, but I could have been more open to taking a few risks or trusting myself more. Now that I am in the fourth quarter of this game of life, I realize that I don’t worry much about the “should be” but focus instead on what “could be.” I am coddiwompling (traveling purposefully toward an as-yet-unknown destination) through life and leaving myself open to what “could be.” Never could a younger me be able to let go and wander without a travel plan. That only came with the wisdom of age.

**Coddiwomple is my OLW for 2025.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

~ rdicarne ~ 6 Comments
Be present in all things and thankful for all things. Maya Angelou

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it is about food, family, and football. There are no presents to buy or wrap, no candy to put in baskets, and no high expectations. Yet, it can still cause me anxiety. Why?

Maybe it is the memories of my childhood Thanksgiving, when the turkey was never finished roasting on time and tensions ran high.

Maybe it is the memories of the Thanksgiving of my early parenting days when the turkey at my parents’ house still wasn’t finished on time, and we stressed over whether our hungry kids would “behave.”

Maybe it is the memories of hosting Thanksgiving dinner and all the people stuffed into my little house. Once you sat down at the table, you didn’t move until it was time to clear the plates for dessert. Maybe it is the memory of the first time we gave up hosting to the next generation. I’m not really sure.

I know that I have nothing to worry about this year, yet I can feel anxiety trying to get in on the action. This year, my kids and their partners are collaborating on dinner, and we will sit down to eat at my son’s house – next year at my daughter’s. And just like that (well over the last few years), the Thanksgiving feast evolved.

This year, I will fight the “what ifs” and that pesky anxiety. The goal is to be present and enjoy each small thing. I am looking forward to the smell of turkey, the laughter of my grandchildren, and the chance for all ten of us to share a meal. Happy Thanksgiving!