Looking at air fryers online, in the middle of the night, and my chest just tightened up. The body remembers grief.
Just before Mabel died, she had requested for my mum to replace a toaster oven that broke down. My mum was finally on it, shortlisting options, and was going to make the purchase the week she passed. I'll forever painfully remember the look of regret on my mum's face as she remarked matter of factly how much my sister, her cherished daughter, wanted to replace the oven, and my mum couldn't get around to it for months, and she was waiting quietly, passively despite needing it to cook her favourite meals... All the meals she could have had before she ended her life, if she had a working one. It crushed my mum that she had let down her kid.
For this reason alone, I don't own one. And we also don't talk about it. This hurting core memory digged deep.
The mind wants to move on, is accepting of the circumstances and reality, but the body holds the score.
