Mumma’s Sharp White Cheddar Mac n’ Cheese

The bowl was in the dishwasher at work and I recognized it instantly. That rim of earthy green flowers decorating the edge of a crisp white Pyrex bowl. My grandmother had a set of the very same dishes in her house in Karachi and they would sometimes make an appearance at chai time. Was it a sign from God? Maybe. Maybe not. But it was something. See, my grandmother passed away last week. Mumma lived a long, full, and happy life. She traveled the world and had a large circle of beautiful and warm friends. She lived to see her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren build beautiful families and lives of their own. Hands down, Mumma was easily the most gracious and loved person I knew.

And yet, when my mother called to tell me of her passing, I had a very removed reaction. It had been many years since I’d seen Mumma. Over the last few years, her hearing had started fading and phone calls became too taxing. I would essentially have a conversation with her nurse who would yell my statements to my grandmother and then relay my grandmother’s response back. Sometimes, the nurse forgot that she didn’t need to yell the response back to me so the entire phone call became a very loud, almost ironic game of Telephone. Thereafter, her memory became foggy and she could never quite remember which grandchild I was. Eventually, the nurse was forced to admit my grandmother had no idea who I was and why I was calling. So, I stopped calling.

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