Sorry, I Can't Eat the Meatloaf

One of the meals that my mom made when I was growing up that I absolutely hated was meatloaf.  I would walk in the door after school and smell it – augh, it was horrible.  I think she could feel me rolling my eyes and almost gagging even if she wasn’t at the front door. Once I got my driver’s license, I would drive myself to the McDonald’s and get a two cheeseburger meal instead.  I hated, just totally hated her meatloaf.  Sometimes it was like a giant, kind of greasy, meatball (and I loved her meatballs, they were fantastic and I regret not learning how to make them).  Other times, when she tried to dress it up in an attempt to win me over, it would me like a burger – she’d put cheese and pickles in the middle. Nothing worked.  As far as I was concerned it was disgusting. And here’s the best part – she didn’t eat it.  She always hated meatloaf since she was a kid and even though we had to eat it (until that whole driving thing kicked in and they couldn’t force me to eat anything anymore), she didn’t.  Man did that piss me off.  Man that still pisses me off.

And now, as an adult who lives with another adult who likes to cook, I am occasionally in a position where I pretty much have to eat meatloaf or I will piss him off quite a bit.  And normally I eat it with no complaints; it’s not too bad.  It’s not great – don’t get me wrong this is still meatloaf we’re talking about. But it’s still much more palatable than my mom’s.  So he decided to make it this week; he had planned on making it on Sunday, the anniversary of her passing, but that was just way too ironic for me so he waited. And still, I can’t bring myself to eat it.  Every time I think about it, I get close to tears.  Even as I sit here, writing about it, I can feel myself wanting to cry.  I have no idea why – it’s stupid, if you ask me.  It’s just a meatloaf, but for some reason, I’m having what I like to call ‘dead mom issues’ about eating it.  I don’t know if it’s guilt over not eating hers for so long and now willingly eating his, I don’t know if it’s remembering not eating hers for so long and missing that fight we had each time, I don’t know what the hell it is but right now, I can’t eat meatloaf because my mom is dead.  Seems like a pretty good excuse, huh?  I’d eat it if I could, but sorry, I can’t because my mom is dead.