What to Do When I'm Gone

by Suzy Hopkins

  DAY 110: Create a new holiday tradition

  This is the first year that I’m not there and it will feel different. Don’t try to do the things we’ve always done and watch a gaping hole appear in each one. Come up with something new to do each year, and think, offhandedly, that you wish I was there.

  Watch gory horror movies together

  Order pizza instead of cooking a traditional dinner

  Go to the casino as a family

  Write a play together

  DAY 144: Bake a pecan pie

  My own mom always made this pie at the holidays. I never understood why I liked it so much. After she died, I made it myself to carry on the tradition and then I understood: It contains massive amounts of sugar.

  First, make the crust. You could buy a frozen pie crust, but this is so much better:

  4 cups sifted flour

  1 tbsp. sugar

  2 tsp. salt

  1½ cups solid vegetable shortening (coconut oil, softened but not melted, also works great)

  1 tbsp. white or cider vinegar

  ½ cup cold water, plus 1 tbsp. more if needed

  1 large egg

  Before you get started, know that you can’t mess this up. It always turns out great, and how often in life can you say that? Dump the flour, sugar, salt, and shortening into a food processor, and give it a few whirls.

  In a separate small bowl, combine the vinegar, cold water, and egg and beat it with a fork. Don’t hold back. Pour the wet mix into the food processor and hit “pulse” a few times until all is combined.

  Dump the mixture onto a floured counter, and separate into two portions. Wrap each separately in plastic and chill for a half hour or more. Then roll one portion out on a floured surface and fit to a 9- or 10-inch pan, preferably deep dish. The other packet will keep for up to a week in the refrigerator, for the second pie you will inevitably make.

  While the dough is chilling, prep the pie filling:

  3/4 cup light corn syrup

  1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar

  3 eggs, slightly beaten

  ½ cup butter, melted

  ½ tsp. salt

  2 tsp. vanilla

  2 cups pecan halves

  Optional: 1/3 cup chocolate chips, chopped in food

  processor, and 1/3 cup shredded, unsweetened coconut

  If including the chocolate and coconut, sprinkle both evenly onto the unbaked crust. Then pour the filling (all the other ingredients, mixed thoroughly) on top.

  Bake at 350 degrees for 45 to 50 minutes until center is set. Let it cool. Or don’t let it cool. Who’s going to stop you from eating it right out of the pan?

  DAY 170: Jump on the trampoline

  There will be days when you can’t concentrate, can’t focus, can’t think straight. Jump on the trampoline to get to a thousand. You still may not be able to think straight but you’ll be so tired you won’t care.

  DAY 231: Celebrate your birthday

  For me, being dead has been really easy until now. I’ve been cracking jokes, making facetious comments.

  But not today.

  Here I am, dead instead of calling you.

  Dead instead of giving you cash tucked in a greeting card with a golden retriever on the front of it.

  The truth is, I feel terribly sorry for myself for being in a grave instead of hanging out in the kitchen fussing over a toppling hand-frosted cake and hugging you. So I can only imagine what you are feeling.

  This is going to be a hard day for you, but don’t forget—I’m the victim here. You should be feeling sorry for ME on your birthday, not yourself.

  This just sucks. I wish I could be there.

  DAY 285: Buy a great pair of shoes

  Everybody should have one pair of really nice shoes. At least. Now that I’m not there to spoil you, it’s time to start spoiling yourself.

  DAY 320: Stop doing stuff you hate to do

  Make a list of things you hate to do. Immediately stop doing at least two of them.

  DAY 365: Make chicken and dumplings

  A year has gone by and you may still be feeling a lot of pain. If I could do one thing from the grave, it would be to help ease your sense of loss.

  What we carry of other people, even when they’re alive, is simply our perception of them, an idea. That means I’m here as long as you remember me. And since I’m here, I suggest you get busy living, seeking out happiness, moving forward.

  Let yourself feel how you feel. Then, realize that the sun is out, the dog needs to be walked, that huge pile of laundry could use some attention, and your neighbor might welcome some comfort food.

  It’s true, I’m not there in person, but chances are you know exactly what I would say: Make chicken and dumplings.

  Whole chicken, rinsed

  Celery, onion, carrots, and parsley

  Salt and pepper, Italian and poultry seasoning

  Flour and milk

  White wine

  Place the whole chicken into a pot, cover it with water, and add rough-cut chunks of celery, onion, carrots, and parsley. Add salt and pepper and the other seasonings. Cook over low to medium heat for a couple of hours, until the chicken comes easily off the bone.

  Let it cool, strain the broth into a new pot, and use a fork to shred the chicken off the bone. Put the chicken in a separate bowl.

  Dice a large onion and a few stalks of celery, leaves included. Sauté in butter until soft. Sprinkle a mix of Italian and poultry seasonings on top, and a bit of flour, and some white wine.

  Sauté this mixture until it thickens a bit, then slowly pour in the strained chicken broth from the cooking pot. Add salt and pepper, cook for 15 or 20 minutes, then add in the cooked chicken.

  Now for the dumplings: If you’ve never made these, they can be a bit tricky. Prepare by pouring yourself a large glass of wine.

  11/4 cups flour

  1/4 cup cornmeal

  1 tbsp. baking powder

  1 tsp. salt

  Parsley, diced

  Italian seasoning

  Ground pepper

  ~~~

  2 tsp. butter, melted

  1 cup milk

  Mix the dry ingredients and parsley together. Mix the melted butter and milk, then add to the dry mix. Stir gently; don’t overmix, so the dumplings stay tender. They will stick like glue to your intestines anyway. Spoon into the simmering soup and cook uncovered for 20 minutes.

  By the way, the next day the leftovers turn into chicken pot pie. Cover the bottom of a pie pan with an unbaked crust, throw some diced potatoes and onions in, pour on the leftover chicken-dumpling stew, and set a crust on top. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 to 60 minutes or until the crust turns golden brown.

  DAY 400: Replace me

  If you lose someone important to you, you should try to replace that person. Because if you live your life losing and not replacing, you’ll end up at zero. I’m not saying you can replace your mother, and it won’t necessarily be an even trade, but I’d like you to try.

  In your twenties and thirties you have dozens of friends. Suddenly you’re forty and your circle narrows: People move, have families of their own, and lose touch amid busy, complicated lives.

  In your fifties and sixties, more friends scatter: People divorce, loyalties shift, some die, some are born again or move to an ashram or just become obnoxious.

  At seventy, eighty, people are dropping dead all around you. You have to replace those people just to maintain a supportive community, people who are with you and for you. Just make sure some of those new friends are younger than you are.

  If this were an option, it would make things much easier, of course:

  DAY 450: Look in the mirror and see yourself the way I saw you

  At times you will forget that you are amazing, and I hate that I’m not there to remind you.

  Because someday you will be old, and you will look back at pictures of yourself and you will see . . . “I was beautiful.”

  DAY 500: Take a bath<
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  A bath is womb-like. It’s warm, enfolding. Light a candle. Relax in the flickering light, the muted noises from outside. Stay in as long as you want to. I don’t know if ghosts are real, but if they are, and I am one, I’ll visit you. You’ll know I’m there if the candle is flickering. Just make sure the wick is pretty long.

  DAY 550: Make a decision

  When there’s a decision to be made—change careers, pursue a relationship, get out of one, move to a new neighborhood, start a business—the procedure is going to be exactly the same.

  • Get a legal pad, ruler, pencil

  • Draw a line down the middle of the pad

  • Draw another line across the top 10 percent of the page

  • Left is pro, right is con

  • Beneath, list outcomes: best-case scenario, worst-case scenario

  • If the best case is better than the worst case is worse, do it

  DAY 600: Get some perspective

  If you’re upset with someone, it’s probably related to the fact that you love this person. Go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep. The next morning, pretend that a meteor is going to hit the earth in five minutes, wiping out your neighborhood. Would you be worried about who’s right and who’s wrong, or would you just want to give a hug and never let go? Problem solved.

  DAY 650: Cure your heartbreak with curry

  Love can hurt. Curry can help.

  Onions, butter, olive oil

  Garlic, ginger

  Potatoes, carrots, yams, apple, tomatoes

  Broccoli, parsley

  Curry powder (medium or hot)

  Cumin, turmeric, cinnamon, brown sugar, fennel seed, cayenne, salt, pepper

  Flour

  Chicken or vegetable broth

  Coconut milk

  Dice a big pile of onions, then cook slowly over low heat in butter or oil with some fresh garlic and ginger. While they’re cooking, peel and dice a handful of carrots, two or three yams, a couple of large red potatoes, a tart apple, a few ripe tomatoes, some broccoli and parsley.

  You’re unhappy with the amount of chopping involved? Deal with it. Sharpen your knife and be thankful you’re not digging ditches for a living, or a heart surgeon, fixing people’s hearts just so they can get hurt all over again.

  Consider this curry-making time an emotional safety zone. Relax and enjoy the process of trimming, dicing, and excising rotten spots just as you would excise the blight of love gone wrong from your broken heart.

  Next, prepare a small bowl of dry ingredients: curry powder, cumin, turmeric, a bit of cinnamon, a bit of brown sugar, some fennel seed if you’re feeling crazy, cayenne, salt, and pepper. Sprinkle this mix on top of the caramelized onions and tumble over low heat.

  Add a bit of flour, too, for thickening. Let this mixture cook for a couple of minutes, then add a few cups of vegetable or chicken broth. Next, add the vegetables, the toughest ones first, reminding yourself that you are also tough and will survive this emotional meltdown.

  Let this mixture simmer for a while, then add coconut milk, more curry powder, salt, and pepper. Adjust the liquid as needed; add more, cook longer, whatever. It really doesn’t matter. Curry is incredibly forgiving, even if you are not.

  You could blend this mixture, but I like it chunky. Add the broccoli and parsley near the end so they don’t overcook.

  Your attention to all this detail will help take your mind off your broken heart. Curry can always help you through heartbreak. It involves making something new out of the old disorder of your life. Even more so if you invite a friend to dinner, or bring over a curry care package.

  DAY 700: Raise the volume

  It’s 3 a.m. and you can’t call me because, well, I’m dead. If I wasn’t, here’s what I would say: “I’m sorry you can’t sleep. Can I make you some tea? A nice bowl of curry?”

  Your mind sometimes takes you places you don’t want to go. Tune it out: Listen to a great song with the volume turned up to drown out that infernal internal screaming. If someone you care about is nearby, consider using headphones.

  Better yet, read a great book. Let it transport you to another place and time, which—when you finally close your eyes—may help you appreciate where you are right now.

  DAY 750: Eat chocolate

  Are you with the right person?

  Someone who makes you laugh

  Someone who cleans up if you’re vomiting, then does the laundry

  Someone whose family welcomes you (it’s true, you marry the family, too)

  Someone who is about as smart as you, definitely not too much dumber

  Someone who listens to your problems without trying to solve them

  Someone who brings home chocolate without being asked

  DAY 850: Talk to me

  You’ll see or do something and think, “Mom would have loved this.”

  Maybe you’ll be walking on a beautiful beach and suddenly remember how much I loved our trips to the ocean. Or you’ll get a great new job or meet someone wonderful, and you’ll feel sad that you can’t talk to me.

  But you can.

  DAY 900: Look up

  This bad patch will pass, just like the bad patches in the past and the ones that lie ahead. Passing clouds, all.

  DAY 950: Make chili

  People can be terribly inflexible. Chili is incredibly flexible.

  Red onion, red bell pepper, celery, garlic

  Olive oil

  Chili powder, cumin, basil, fennel, rosemary, oregano, onion powder, cayenne, salt, pepper

  Flour or flaxseed meal

  Red wine

  Diced tomatoes

  Black beans, kidney beans

  Vegetable or chicken broth

  Diced carrots, yams, butternut squash

  Tabasco sauce

  Shredded cheese, sour cream, cilantro

  This is a base recipe adaptable to big quantities. Before you get started, think of a few friends who would rather not cook tonight (they won’t be hard to find) and invite them to dinner.

  Dice and sauté a large red onion, red bell pepper, celery, and fresh garlic in olive oil for a few minutes, stirring occasionally.

  Stir together the spices: chili powder, cumin, basil, fennel, rosemary, oregano, onion powder, cayenne, salt, and pepper.

  Pour the spices over the onion mix, sauté for a minute or so, then sprinkle in two or three tablespoons of flour or flaxseed meal and cook for another minute. Add a cup of red wine and simmer the mixture until it thickens, then add diced tomatoes, black beans, kidney beans, and vegetable or chicken stock.

  You can add more broth or additional diced vegetables at this point (I like carrots, yams, and butternut squash) and a splash of Tabasco.

  Let this simmer for an hour or two. Test for spiciness and adjust. Serve with shredded cheese, sour cream, and fresh diced cilantro. This recipe can handle a lot of flavor and just gets better with age—and cornbread.

  DAY 1,000: Take a risk

  Q: We’re in love and have talked about living together. How will we know if it’s the right time?

  A. When you’d rather be together night and day than apart.

  Q: What if we live together and start to take each other for granted?

  A. You will. Then you’ll realize your mistake and refocus on your partner and strengthening your relationship.

  Still, there may be times when you think the passion will never return, and when you feel invisible to your partner. Being in love is easy. Living together is harder. It’s a learning experience, mostly about yourself.

  At times you won’t like how you behave or how your partner behaves. You won’t always agree and the workload won’t always be evenly distributed. At times you’ll get angry and fight and have to work to reestablish communication. It sounds grim, but if you love your partner, it’s worth the effort.

  Q: What about marriage? Even if I find the person I want to spend my life with, I’m apprehensive about the institution and the strains it puts on a relationsh
ip. If nearly half of all marriages end in divorce, why risk it?

  A. What is your reason for thinking about getting married? What do you think it will change? People get married for all kinds of reasons. Love, faith, sex, money, children.

  Don’t blame the institution: It’s invisible. The problem is there’s no instruction manual. People tend to be selfish and may not realize how much give and take is required. They may give up too easily. How much love and effort you put into marriage is a fair indicator of its success or failure. If you quit a few years in, you might miss out on wonderful time together when you’re older and wiser.

  All I can say is, it’s worth it when you find someone who knows what you are going through and actually cares. Who knows your history and doesn’t mind at all. Who knows what you are really like first thing in the morning and loves you anyway. Yes, it’s risky, and yes, there are times when it’s a lot of work. Take that chance.