My Green Mile Meal Choice #MFRWauthor #BlogChallenge

MFRW.org 52-Week Blog Challenge

Hello, again, and welcome back to another episode of the MFRWauthor 52-Week Blog Challenge.

It's Week 24, and this time we're asked to Choose/Describe our LAST MEAL.

I'll begin with an irreverent shot at the blog's title for this week's challenge and say I suspect that EVERYONE will partake of a Last Meal prior to their departure from this world, eh?

They just won't know it in most cases.

Then I'll include something maudlin and recall my father's last day on this planet (a week ago +30 some yrs).

With this being Father's Day Weekend here in the USA (MX, UK, and CA), it has its place.

It was a strange day for sure, and he behaved too abnormal for my comfort or keener instincts.

He had made a big stink about the night's meal, insisting that the whole family be there to help him partake of none other than carry-out from his favorite Chinese restaurant.

We were a grown family of six, each with our own lives, jobs, interests, etc., so getting us together on a weekday, much less for a meal, was asking a whole lot (and, I know he knew that).

I'd just graduated High School and had a full-time job while my two younger brothers always had after school activities planned, and the oldest lived on her own.

Me, being the way I was back then, struggled really hard not to shed tears and beg the man to explain himself (because he'd just have made a face and asked me to calm down).

But, I sensed it and stayed home while my older sister and two younger brothers begged off and went their separate ways.

My mother chose a few hours' overtime, not returning home until around 8pm.

The Pressed Duck dinner (our family's favorite) was the worst-tasting meal I'd ever tried to enjoy, and the egg roll didn't seem to have that sweet/savory bite to it, either.

Even the yummy Hawaiian Dinner Roll with a dab of melted butter that usually made me beg for seconds (and thirds) was tough to swallow.

Dad smiled as he ate, relishing it all and making the meal drag on even though it was just us two to 'enjoy' said repast.

I watch a lot of Asian dramas, and one thing they are known for doing is weeping as they eat... something I never quite got the hang of and always choke on the food, so it has to be one or the other, and that night I chose to buck up and wash the tasteless meal down with as much milk as my tummy could handle.

The next day, I phoned home from work and Pop answered.

I asked how he was, and he replied the only way he knew how, "Fine, get back to work." and he hung up.

The previous evening's meal still weighed me down both mentally and physically with a mild upset stomach and a milder headache.

But, as I hung up the phone and tried to get back to my job, the gloomy grey of what I used to assume was depression sunk lower and lower until it enveloped me body and soul.

I didn't waste any time driving home after work that day, and even before I opened the door, I knew it wasn't going to be pretty.

Dad had retired a few years earlier, after his triple bypass surgery, and he usually did daily spring cleaning-like housework, followed by a few HOURS spent in the kitchen preparing some cookbook find meal.

Instead, he lay 'asleep' on the sofa, and with, of all things, Roller Derby blaring on the television.

I remember heading straight for my room and not daring to look at him.

After pacing that room for a time, wringing my hands and asking myself a lot of useless questions, I ventured back into the livingroom... to turn off the TV and ask what was for dinner.

The TV snapping off should have done the trick, but I knew deep down that it wasn't going to awaken him that time.

The pristine kitchen and lack of aroma were 'dead' giveaways, and when he didn't sit up and shout at me about turning off the TV, I slowly sank to my knees and FINALLY wept.

So, I think, instinctively, that day some 30-odd years ago, that Pop knew what his Last Meal would be, and that he'd wanted desperately to share it with us all.

Since he was never capable of sharing much of anything with any of us in all the years we'd known one another.

What had been, for the longest time, my worst possible memory, has become one of my fondest.

I'd been there for him even if he would still insist it wasn't that way and no big deal.

I'd partaken of his choice in Last Meal, and if I hadn't been so sensitive and observant of others, I probably would have enjoyed that Chinese the way I'm capable of doing now.

So, for me, I'm certain it would turn out the same way.

Whatever the menu choice, I'd want desperately to be with my two children on that day and hopefully talk a lot, laugh as much, and learn what little more I could about them before transcending to the great beyond.

Maybe it could occur at that quaint Coney place on the East Side, which actually serves THE BEST prime rib I've ever had the good fortune to order in all my Prime Rib excursions in life.

And, I've been to some fancy digs in my search for the ideal Prime Rib dinner, too.

Salad with Croutons and Italian Dressing, a Baked Potato with a dab of butter, sour cream, and a sprinkle of green onions on top, a good Cabernet Sauvignon, and a slightly fatty hunk of medium rare Prime Beef to top off the momentous occasion.

YUM

As always, I thank you for visiting my Blog today and reading my Post.

Below is the Linky List of everyone else who participated this week, so please be sure to follow the hop and read what others have to say about their choice for Last Meal on Earth.