A Grief Grilled Cheese

A few days ago I got my sandwich press out to make lunch...well late lunch. Do you have a sandwich press? They are great...my dad used to make sandwiches at my parents all the time and he got Josh and I this very one we still use. I buttered the bread, added two pieces of sliced cheese--colby jack & provolone-- down went the handle and in a few minutes a grilled cheese was on the plate.

I sliced it with the pizza cutter in two triangles...because I like how the corners dip better than cutting it into two halves. I had made homemade salsa this week so I poured some in a bowl. I know grilled cheeses are known for the tomato soup dipping combo...but if you have never dipped one into fresh salsa you may be converted soon. As I was dipping the corners and eating, a silent but loud wave of grief settled into my stomach and filled the room with it's lingering stench.

You see my dad always made fresh salsa; so good you could drink it.

He'd roast the tomatoes on the grill, blend up all the things, & pour it into mason jars. There was always one sitting on a shelf in my parents' fridge. One day years ago I was sitting at their kitchen table eating my grilled cheese I'd made. I had poured some salsa in a bowl and was dipping it. My dad stopped was he was doing and looked at me in a shock slash mind blown slash 'why didn't I think of that' expression. He was Cuban...and if you don't know about Cubans...let me tell you...they like to tell you how to eat. I say that in the most affectionate way possible, because I think its endearing & we always got a good laugh out of him and Aunt Kookie explaining to us passionately how we needed to put the black beans on the rice. I know my dad in that very moment seeing the combo I made of his homemade salsa and a grilled cheese I made on his sandwich press was a complication to his Cuban nature...because deep down I know he wanted to be the one to say, "Ashley you should try this," but he couldn't because it was my idea haha. And yes later that month I saw him eating his grilled cheese the same way. A real compliment actually; if you knew my dad you know what I mean.

My dad passed away suddenly in 2018. So in turn, so did his homemade salsa, so did his frustrating & endearing eating instructions... so did lots of stuff. As I was eating my grilled cheese + salsa this past week...I had a vivid memory of the last mason jar of salsa in their refrigerator. I suppose he had made some that past week and there the last of it sat. I had stayed with my mom a few days after he died. I'd made a grilled cheese, sat down at their table where we had spent many a night eating together, and dipped my grilled cheese in his salsa made by his two hands. I remember sitting there tears rolling down my face knowing this was the last time I'd ever get to taste what he'd made. He was a great cook and I told him so many times he needed to open up a Cuban restaurant or food truck and serve his food & salsa. I miss it. I miss him. Every bite that day felt like the last connection I had to him. & as silly as it may sound, when I finished that sandwich it was like I lost him all over again.

When you go through loss, you grapple. Grapple at anything that will draw you near to what you lost. And on that day it was a grief grilled cheese with a side of salsa.

Well fast forward to this past week in 2025 and in that very moment standing at my kitchen island eating this combo...that grief attached itself to my grilled cheese again. You can't control when it happens...it just pops out and makes an intruding entrance & you have to deal with it in whatever day, moment, or circumstance you are in. It squeezes your heart & pushes out tears without warning. There I was again standing in front of their fridge looking at that jar next to the milk and leftovers days after my dad died...that's what it felt like anyway...reliving the sadness of that day, the pain, the loss. Why was this brought up today Lord? Why this memory?

I don't know the answers. I know I referred to this grief as a lingering stench...& it does smell like that...but it also is joined with it's own unlikely combo that has a pleasant aroma. It doesn't feel good, and at the same time that painful memory brings back my dad for a moment...a connection...just like that last jar of salsa. I see God's mercy in this and his grace. He knows my heart, that sometimes I need to be reminded of my dad in the midst of this crazy busy life during parenthood where I barely slow down to think. God used a moment where I was taking a lunch break, to bring me to tears, to remind me of how precious life is, how fragile, how quick. To bring a fond memory of my father and his quirkiness. Maybe unknowingly I push the memories away so I don't have to feel, because I don't know how much weight it will bring with it if I invite it in.

Sometimes I believe God will press upon a moment like this to do a work in us. He will open that door FOR us & let grief stroll in, politely come in, and often times barge in. He tends to the ground and does whatever work in us is needed...healing a bit more, processing a bit more, giving it over to him a bit more, trusting him a bit more, so he can do what he needs to do in our heart ...for purposes we may not understand on this side of life. I do know it's for his glory, for our good, that we don't become who he purposes us to be without going through the trials, the deep sufferings as Jesus did. Grief teaches us things and shreds things and lays things bare in a way that no other thing can. The world and the enemy lie to us constantly...but grief that comes with loss...there is a raw naked truth there that can't be touched. It is what it is. The realness & experience of it is undeniable, it MUST be looked at, peered into, faced, acknowledged. Perhaps the deep utterance of the crushed spirit we experience is partly because we are finally face to face with the contrast of life and death. The reality of what we in our flesh try to not think about. Especially when a close loved one is pulled away from us.

I do sit with grief for a while, I go down memory lane, I laugh, I cry, I ponder, I usually take a deep breath and sigh multiple times. But I don't entertain it too long...I know when it's time for company to go home. It would sit there at the table as long as I let it, it would consume my life if I let it. No, I remember there is someone else in the room with me to sigh with, to weep with. Jesus. I don't need grief to keep feeding me grilled cheese sandwiches & making me sick if that makes sense. There is usually a moment after feeling all the things where I feel hopeless and sigh...and then remember to fix my eyes on Him, where my full hope comes from. Doesn't mean it's easy or grief isn't still lingering around trying to get my attention. God is there waiting for me as I escort grief out and let Him in, to rest in, to find peace in, to hug my heart, the rock to stand on, the refuge to hide under, to remind me of truth, of what this life is all about. It's like I have to die to myself in that moment and have faith to keep moving forward. I do believe knowing God is the only way I could do that. Forward will always look a little different, because grief changes you and it's now something you have to deal with at times...but God. This life isn't the end of everything, there is a glorious eternity waiting and calling out to those who will listen, who will believe in the Savior to rescue us from eternal death itself...this current life is but a breath. The healing process looks different for everyone, the triggers are different, the weight is different, the healing is different, the time frame is different, the circumstances are different, the stories are different..some are so tragic we can barely begin to imagine, the relationship we had with our loved one is different, the baggage we have to sort through is different...but the one thing that remains the same is God & that Jesus is with us, understands every little pinch of hurt, and is near to the brokenhearted.

"When Mary reached the placed where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. Where have you laid him? he asked. "Come and see, Lord, "they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" -John 11:32-35

He is with you as you sit at the table eating your grief grilled cheese and salsa...whatever that is for you. Whatever trigger you just experienced, whatever wave has crashed over you, whatever hurt you are feeling because of this gut wrenching heartbreaking loss. He is weeping with you. You are not alone.

If there is anything I've learned through my own road...is to not shut grief out, when it comes invite it in, but also invite Jesus in too as the door is still opened so that it doesn't overstay it's welcome and try to move in. It almost feels like a lion you have to tame...but it takes a while to understand it and grasp what is happening...to make that lion submit so it doesn't devour you. Because sometimes it comes in angry, wild, or pounces with its full weight... and sometimes it's gentle and wants to cuddle and brings a sweet smile as you remember a time or a moment. It takes time to learn to coexist in a healthy way. I learned not blame others or put expectations on them of how they should be comforting or reacting to what I'm going through. They can't fix anything and even if they acted perfectly it won't fill the hole. I remember trying to go down that rabbit hole and it only leads to bitterness of my own making. But if you do know someone going through the trenches of this...just show up, little acts of kindness mean a lot. Asking how they are or telling a story of their loved one. Or food etc. Sometimes those things are just enough to pull someone up for a breath before the next wave comes. To always remember God's grace for you as you walk through it. It won't look pretty, and it will be really sad, and the ache is real, but to try and find the sweet bits in there, the cherished bits. To remember there are still people here to cherish and love and pour into...that we still have some time left with them. And I'm thankful for that, that I'm blessed with that for a time, knowing the people I love and God has placed in my life aren't mine, they are the Lord's and how wonderful to have been able to have any amount of time with them; it is a gift. Of course I wanted more time, but I have to continue to come to terms with that, and its a struggle some days. I hold onto the anchor that God is sovereign and has a plan and He works all things out for good for those who love him, that our days were ordained before one of them came to be, that this life is for his glory, that my life is not my own. That the what ifs are a lie that will keep me on a train of thought that isn't reality and leads to anxiety, confusion, and more pain; I couldn't have changed anything. What happened is out of my control...and that brings me peace. I can learn to cherish more, to love more, to be thankful. It's all sanctification, and it doesn't always feel good, but it will bring about God's purposes. That's part of my grief road anyways. Everyone that goes through it will have their own journey. Help us to cover those in prayer that are walking or crawling on the road.

With all of that, I think it's time for lunch again so I will part for now. I don't think I will be having a grilled cheese and salsa today though. Maybe another day.

-AMS