Bitter Cake

Saturday was Kira's birthday. In attempt to do something nice, I made a cake. The recipe called it a flour-less chocolate cake. I wanted to try it; somehow the thought of making a really different cake appealed to my aching heart. I also thought I could enlist some help from the girls. In my perception, these little girls were behaving strangely. They were lined up in a row with a third little girl joining them (in one year old snatches). They were just sitting in the family room; I couldn't get them interested in anything. Claiming to be playing airplane they sat solemnly, silently, and straight in their chairs. Marlea on the right, Anna in the middle, and their friend Maria on the left. Maria is our neighbor and Marlea's friend. She has spent countless hours playing and entertaining Kira. Kira loved and admired her greatly. Maria is nine - just about a grown up little girl. I walked into the living room and asked "Hey does anybody want to help me bake a cake?" I asked in my most cheerful voice. I felt fake inside but it was worth a try. After all - it looked to me as if all they were doing was sitting stoically looking at the wall. "No" the answers came very flatly, with absolutely no emotion. "Whatever are you thinking about?" I queried. Marlea replied "Kira." It was too intense for Anna - she ran away. Maria said matter-of-factly in a monotone voice "nothing." I soon discovered that no pushing, tempting, or persuasion would convince them to help me make a cake. I reasoned to make my own cake. I poured and stirred. It seemed really different - but I was liking it. No sugar except for a half cup of Rapadura, salt, eggs, and cocoa. Later, I made a sugarless chocolate sauce for with it. That night I proudly served the cake. I tried to be happy about it. Nobody sang "Happy Birthday" because we didn't think it fit. We all solemnly bit into our pieces. They looked nice with a beautiful chocolate sauce drizzled over the top, completed with Merlin's homemade yogurt. First bite - it tasted really different. Second bite - it's kinda good. By the third bite I had my prognosis: bitter. My cake on which I had labored all this time was bitter. Suddenly the last moments of Kira's life came pouring over me. The last year's memories came in torrents. The pain seemed to raise my fork automatically and a fourth bite was in my mouth. I chomped it victoriously. Yes, this cake is bitter but I can eat it. Yes, this last year was bitter - but I survived it. Yes - the pain of losing Kira was so bitter - but so is this cake; I swallowed a fifth bite. Until I was finished the cake was actually good. I wonder if this is this how my pain will be...will it be sweet in the end? I don't think the other individuals in my family appreciate my bitter cake. I still faithfully eat a piece every day; and it does seem to get better every day. Is it the cake or is it me? I don't think I will ever know. Will this bitter cake of pain ever be sweet? That I don't know either but I know a God who has a lot more foresight than I have. Until I am blessed with more foresight...I will eat more slices of bitter cake drizzled with bitter sauce. As for little girls that stare at walls together in silence - the level of sympathy that I felt being passed to Marlea was indescribable. It was a sacred experience!

After Kira's third birthday she soon discovered that Anna fit nicely in her birthday stroller. They went on walks through the house in a procession of the three of them; Marlea wishing to be pushing, Kira proudly pushing, and Anna happily riding. They did it with the old stroller too and I wish to have a picture with the new stroller.

Thanks so much for your prayers and support through this month.

Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna