Hot and Sour Soup

The day after my dad died I didn't feel much like cooking. So we headed to China Cafe for lunch. The kids love the food there. But the best thing about the place are the owners - two ladies who make us and every guest feel at home. By the time we are seated  the kids usually have their cups of wonton soup ("Evan called it "donton" for ages) in front of them. No chives, extra wontons. And plates so they can take the wontons out and eat then separately. And bowls of rice which they like to eat with the soup. And a glass of ice to put in their soups to cool them off. All that before we are even seated. 

So Jo and Alu and the kids and I sat down. I didn't say a word about my dad's very recent death during the greetings and pleasantries. And then I told Jo "We are going to have to tell them."

It was just about the only restaurant where my dad dined out at. And when he wasn't with us I always picked up a hot and sour (or wonton) soup and an entree for him. If I ever forgot, Cicile or Mary Anne reminded me. So I knew that awkward moment was coming.

Something like Cicile: "Arun - you want the usual to-go for your father?"
Me:"Uh - no - he won't be needing that any more."

Jo and Alu had a solution. Don't tell them and just take the to-go, they suggested. "For how long?" I asked. "Forever" they said.

But fortunately the decision wasn't ours to make. Cicile asked Vivian why she wasn't at school (it was a Monday) and Vivian sobbed and said "because my grandpa died" and there it was. I took this photo of the kids and Cicile after everyone had calmed down. And Cicile even came to the memorial service.