My Mom lived with me for the last three months of her life. I will treasure those days forever. But. . .
Mom’s father — Ed Dill, whose namesake I am — had a prodigious sweet tooth. Never was dinner served in his house without some kind of homemade dessert or, if my step–Grandma was too busy, ice cream. Principally because of the desserts, I loved visiting Grandpa when I was little.
Mom inherited Grandpa’s sweet tooth, but, having a strong sense of proportion in her life, learned to curb it. I inherited the sweet tooth from Mom, my brother didn’t. Unfortunately, I didn’t also inherit her sense of proportion.
During Mom’s last three months, she frequently would ask for foods that she had enjoyed over the years, sometimes dishes from her childhood. Often, these were sweets: ice cream with pineapple and/or coconut in it; licorice of any kind; caramel candies; apple pie; peach pie; toast with butter and honey; Kit–Kat Bars; yogurt–covered pretzels. I gave her anything she asked for.
The problem was that Mom’s eyes were bigger than her tummy. I would buy a pint of ice cream and she would eat at most two scoops. She would eat maybe five pieces from a bag of licorice. Thoughtful son that I was, I would eat whatever she couldn’t. It had been years since I ate so many sweets, so much candy, so much ice cream.
When I went to the doctor for my physical in mid–August, I was sure I would have gained a ton of weight. Not so. I had lost weight. All the work I was doing to keep Mom comfortable paid off in more ways than one!!! Now Mom is gone, but I still hanker for sweets.
Yesterday, I was in a store where they sold my favorite licorice candy, Good and Plenty, in bulk. I bought a little more than a pound. I ate about half last night. I’m keeping up my calorie intake without the corresponding Mom work. Not good.
I hope I inherit Mom’s longevity genes. I’ll just have to keep struggling with her sweet–tooth genes.