I've heard the story many times.
Always smooth out the cream cheese.
Never buy the pre-made crust.
And my favorite moment on every Easter Sunday
was when you brought out the cheesecake.
The cake you made from scratch with tender care,
the one that once emitted the scents of baking sweetness and bittersweet exhaustion in the cozy kitchen.
Perfect pieces were sliced, and each bite was relished,
each forkful a vision of creamy bliss.
The bliss was in your smile,
the smile that lifted the family's spirits.
And I savored every bite, not knowing which would be my last.

Now, in the summer, as time stands still,
the cheesecake cravings creep surreptitiously back into my thoughts
like forgotten dreams,
and suddenly I long for the smell of the Easter blossoms,
the smell of the strawberry sauce drizzled over the rich, creamy slices of cheesecake …
The smell of your perfume.
The warmth of your hugs, the cheeriness of your smile.
Yes, I realize, I miss you more …
I miss you more than that sweet sensation,
that feeling of elation that I'll never experience again
because you're not here.
From bliss unto blackness,
from dust unto dust.
I'll never hear that story again …
Always smooth out the cream cheese.
Never buy the pre-made crust.
My favorite moment on every Easter Sunday
was when you brought out the cheesecake.
I can still taste that last bite …