After so many months of long days and late nights, I’d like to finally, and warmly, welcome you to the new and improved Tales from the Cusp. I hope you make yourself at home and get inspiration from what we endeavor to bring to the table in terms of cooking, making, art and life. Life in particular has been quite eventful this year.
Last June my father, Bobby Amor, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer. I’m sure some of you know how quickly your life changes in a situation like that. After fighting for a month, he passed away quietly and peacefully, but life will never be the same.
I was in the midst of launching the new blog and making abstract art and up to that point, I was really hopeful this year would be a pretty unforgettable one. I was right. Although not in the way I expected.
I still can’t write in depth about my dad because it is just painful. There are good days and there are days when I feel like grief rips my heart out at random. I feel, that no matter how grown up you think you are, real “adulting” begins when you lose a parent. I feel traumatized by what happened and so very, very, vulnerable.
One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that you can make plans, these glorious plans, but at any given moment they could all mean nothing. You think you’ve figured out your priorities, but when a treasured one starts to disappear before your very eyes, those priorities boil down to a very few. It sounds like a cliche I know. But please don’t wait to learn this the hard way.
My Dad was so many things to many people. He was also, along with my Mom, one of the first real foodies that I learned from. And that brings me back to the blog’s essence.
What’s really important to me personally is that I give creatively to the world, hopefully making it better, but also to enjoy the journey and all the life that happens on the way with the people I love most. Relationships are everything. And a huge part of that for me is nurturing my family through food, and finding what’s magical in the world and in life together, everyday, as much as it is humanly possible. And always hoping all the tales, recipes and how-tos will touch you in some way.
An old friend told me that grief is like a small room that you never want to leave. But slowly grief gives me a certain solace. I loved my Dad and he loved me, and there is pain because there was love.
Thank you for being here. Let’s work on our plans and may God bless them.
Much love,
Ina
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