Mom has been gone for over forty years. Dad never remarried so it became his responsibility to raise all us kids. Nor did he ever move from the old homestead. He was the fourth generation to live in that home. In addition to seeing to our needs, he had to see to the needs of that old home. And it had many needs. In 2009, my sister Amy and her husband moved into the house. Dad was no longer able to see to its needs or to his own.
On Thanksgiving Day 2010 the entire family was at Dad’s to show him how much we all loved him. Even sister Sara came all the way from Ontario, Canada.
Even though it was the end of November, the weather was perfect. The children played most of the day in the immense back yard. We shared favorite memories. Some of us showed videos and family photos. I even baked a special cake for the occasion.
All was going great until I produced the cake …………………………
This cake was a very special surprise. I have never ever baked one by myself. Dad was a master baker by trade but was unable to pass along his love for baking to his children. He tried. We even baked a few things together. To perfection, I might add. But I never tried without him.
Most likely, this was going to be the last time I would be able to honor him by showing Dad I do actually listen and understand. I think he had his doubts about that. This cake would be the best way I knew to pay tribute to him.
I took off work the day before Thanksgiving. Even though the kids were home from school, I cleared everyone out of the kitchen and took control. I posted Dad’s special cake recipe prominently in front of me. The ingredients were mixed with care. This was not any o’ box mix. This was my Dad’s famous, Turkey German Chocolate cake.
Most families serve Pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving Day, but not us. This was our family tradition. What made this cake so special was the secret ingredient passed down to him from his mother who had it passed down to her.
Many tried to pry the secret out of that man. I now had it. It was an awesome responsibility. Although I did not take it seriously before, now was the time to step up and make that cake. Several times my wife snuck into the kitchen while I baked it to try to find out the secret ingredient that made it so special.
Eventually, she would find out. But not today. I was on my own.
Four hours and several attempts later, I finally produced the masterpiece. All that needed to be done now, was to share it with my Dad.
The magic moment was about to happen. I carefully and proudly placed it on the table in front of Dad. He was very pleasantly surprised at seeing that cake. I could tell he understood the significance of me presenting it to him.
With all my careful planning, I had forgotten something.
I knew how much Charlie loved cake. Cake of any kind. No matter where he was. His cake sensitive awareness immediately kicked in.
From out of nowhere, a black blur appeared and the cake was gone. No evidence of it could be found. Not even a crumb. The big black Labrador retriever was an unexpected ingredient.
But it was OK. Dad knew I had baked “his” cake all by myself.
He left us before Christmas that year.
The tradition continues.
