It dawned on me last night just how much I am like my Poppop. I never fully realized it until, in the hours after his passing, I sat there with my family just wishing it were me and him. I could always sit with Poppop in silence, not a trait that comes easily to anyone else in my loud family. I always admired how, amidst the mayhem of story-telling and opinions flying like pigs, Poppop could just sit there and listen. And when he did have something to share, it was immensely important.
Poppop was a genius, the kind that let his instincts dictate his work, as opposed to having an exclusively intellectual drive. What I mean by that is that he knew what needed to be done, and he did it. It was the only way he knew how to raise 10 kids. He worked his ass off.
Poppop was a genius, the kind that let his instincts dictate his work, as opposed to having an exclusively intellectual drive. What I mean by that is that he knew what needed to be done, and he did it. It was the only way he knew how to raise 10 kids. He worked his ass off.
The truth is that I, like my Poppop, was working hard to get through it all. I never knew what a drive I had until this last day of a long work stretch, when I wanted to just push through it and pretend everything was okay. I’m so glad I reprioritized my life once I really understood the plight of his condition.
I sat by his side at 1am on Saturday, sharing his sentiment: a desire for silence. I held his hand and cried by his side, hoping that in some weird way he could hear what I was saying to him in my head. The room spun and I needed him to myself. Finally, after about 45 minutes of not knowing how to ask for such time, my mom suggested to my 8 aunts and uncles that I be left alone with my granddad.
I told him I wished we could have gone running together, and that I would miss him terribly. After my father passed away, when I was 5, I would spend hours at a time by his side in his home office, just writing on notepads and wishing that someday I could be a businessman like him. I shared his passion for words and languages, beautiful penmanship and art, and a palate for ethnic food like no one I’ve ever known. I, too, am gentle until I’m crotchity, feel certain that I always know best, and have a hard time giving compliments. I get these things from my Poppop. I will always cherish these beloved traits that both endear and deter those around me.
I sat by his side at 1am on Saturday, sharing his sentiment: a desire for silence. I held his hand and cried by his side, hoping that in some weird way he could hear what I was saying to him in my head. The room spun and I needed him to myself. Finally, after about 45 minutes of not knowing how to ask for such time, my mom suggested to my 8 aunts and uncles that I be left alone with my granddad.
I told him I wished we could have gone running together, and that I would miss him terribly. After my father passed away, when I was 5, I would spend hours at a time by his side in his home office, just writing on notepads and wishing that someday I could be a businessman like him. I shared his passion for words and languages, beautiful penmanship and art, and a palate for ethnic food like no one I’ve ever known. I, too, am gentle until I’m crotchity, feel certain that I always know best, and have a hard time giving compliments. I get these things from my Poppop. I will always cherish these beloved traits that both endear and deter those around me.
After hours of eating and drinking wine with the family, last night, I retreated to the back bedroom and proceeded to allow myself to cry. I’ve always been a sympathy cryer, but this was a moment I needed alone. Finally, my mom came and held me. She, too, understood the weight of his loss, her father. We both knew it was time for us to leave.
I said all of my goodbyes, being careful to lag behind my mother so that I could complete one final task. If there’s something my grandfather taught me, his Hannah Banana, it’s to enjoy a good scotch. I quickly reached into his liquor cabinet, and stole his last set of Brandy mini-bottles, and the drop of Dewars that remained.
Today I made these cookies to commemorate my dear Poppop. And enjoyed a sip of VSOP in his honor.
To Poppop, with love.
Hannah Banana
I said all of my goodbyes, being careful to lag behind my mother so that I could complete one final task. If there’s something my grandfather taught me, his Hannah Banana, it’s to enjoy a good scotch. I quickly reached into his liquor cabinet, and stole his last set of Brandy mini-bottles, and the drop of Dewars that remained.
Today I made these cookies to commemorate my dear Poppop. And enjoyed a sip of VSOP in his honor.
To Poppop, with love.
Hannah Banana
Soft-baked Banana Chocolate Chip Cookies
1 Cup + 2 tbsp White Whole Wheat Flour
1/4 Cup Oats
1/2 Tsp Baking Soda
1/2 Tsp Salt
1/4 Cup Coconut Oil, melted
3/4 Cup Coconut Palm Sugar
1 very ripe Banana
1 1/2 Tsp Vanilla Extract
1 Cup Vegan Chocolate Chips
1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Combine flour, oats, and baking soda in a bowl.
3. In a separate bowl, mash banana with oil and sugar. Add salt and vanilla extract.
4. Pour wet ingredients into dry, and stir until just combined. Add chocolate chips and stir.
5. Drop by heaping teaspoon onto a baking stone. Bake each batch for 8 minutes. Allow to cool for 1 minute before removing from pan.
Enjoy, with a loud "mmmmmm" just like Poppop did. Follow with a sip of scotch on the rocks.
1 Cup + 2 tbsp White Whole Wheat Flour
1/4 Cup Oats
1/2 Tsp Baking Soda
1/2 Tsp Salt
1/4 Cup Coconut Oil, melted
3/4 Cup Coconut Palm Sugar
1 very ripe Banana
1 1/2 Tsp Vanilla Extract
1 Cup Vegan Chocolate Chips
1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Combine flour, oats, and baking soda in a bowl.
3. In a separate bowl, mash banana with oil and sugar. Add salt and vanilla extract.
4. Pour wet ingredients into dry, and stir until just combined. Add chocolate chips and stir.
5. Drop by heaping teaspoon onto a baking stone. Bake each batch for 8 minutes. Allow to cool for 1 minute before removing from pan.
Enjoy, with a loud "mmmmmm" just like Poppop did. Follow with a sip of scotch on the rocks.
