Can I Have Ice Cream Before Dinner?
Written by Shelby Evans, Lifestyle Staff Writer
I am sitting alone on a bench eating a peanut butter-flavored ice cream cone from Chocolate Shoppe listening to a man play the guitar when I begin to cry.
I was walking to the library on the first spring day in Madison when I had a taste for ice cream. I bought my favorite flavor, peanut butter fudge. I sat near the man playing guitar and let the many faces on state street pass me by. That’s when I remembered the last time I had eaten an ice cream cone.
It’s been three and a half months since my grandpa passed, and it’s been six months since I last ate an ice cream cone. It was with him.
It was my last night home for the summer before going back to school. We were going to grab dinner with some family friends at our favorite restaurant outside of town.
“Well, Shelby, Candy Shoppe is going to be closed by the time we get back,” he said.
I responded, “I suppose you want to get some now then?”
“All that I am saying is that if we don’t go now, that’s it. You won’t have it again until next summer.”
I only lived with him in the summer and Candy Shoppe closes for the winter, so this was going to be our last shot until I came back in May. I guess I didn’t know it was going to be our last one, period.
He always talked me into ice cream before dinner. If I was 10 and not 20, I would have loved it but I never much liked to do it now. He always seemed to want to go to our small town Candy Shoppe.
As we sat on the boat after eating our ice cream that night, my otherwise empty stomach felt horrible. I hadn’t eaten in hours and the ice cream did not make me feel better. I was sick to my stomach.
But, it wasn’t all sick stomachs full of ice cream. We would go to Candy Shoppe and share walks, have good conversations or just eat in blissful silence at least once a week.
We’d walk in and greet Dan, the man who owns the Candy Shoppe with his wife. He would usually be hand-rolling the waffle cones in the bakery which can be seen from the glass when you walk in.
We’d talk with Dan before proceeding to the counter where I would order a waffle cone filled with elephant tracks ice cream, and he would order a sugar cone with after-dinner mint.
Now I’m sitting alone in Madison thinking about all the times we ate ice cream and listened to music in the park at home together. What was a spur of the moment decision has taken me back home with him.
I didn’t think something like this would make me feel so heavy. I knew how much those moments had meant to me, I just didn’t think that eating an ice cream cone would transcend into part of my grieving.
I wish he was sitting with me, eating his after-dinner mint, nodding along to the guitar players’ music.
Grief hits you when you least expect it. It never truly goes away, it becomes bearable. On this early March day, all I want is to share one last ice cream cone before dinner with my grandpa.