Sushi Girl

One of Emma’s favorite foods was sushi. We discovered a favorite sushi restaurant in town about three years ago and it had become a habit to go there once a week, usually on Fridays, for dinner. We liked to try new things, but we definitely had our favorites. Emma would always start with an appetizer called Sunomono – raw octopus and assorted fish made to look like a beautiful floral arrangement.  Sarah and I would usually share a crab ceviche and Peter liked the tuna dumpling. Then we would share an assortment of rolls. Our favorites were the Amazing roll, the Spider roll, the Jaguar roll, the Tiger roll and the Dragonfly roll.

Emma would eat sushi as often as she could. Whenever she and Sarah had one of their children’s choir concerts and had to bring dinner, I would get them sushi to bring. And on the rare occasion that Peter and I went out without them, we would get them sushi to share at home. What pizza is to some families, sushi was to us. When we hired a caterer for Emma’s sweet sixteen party, one of the requirements was that they be able to prepare sushi. It had to be on the menu.

For Christmas in 2008, Emma got a sushi making kit and cookbook from her aunt and uncle. She absolutely loved it and on two occasions last winter she spent most of a weekend day crafting a selection of sushi for us to have for dinner. Sushi was the perfect combination of two things she loved to do: cook delicious foods and create beautiful things. That’s why I had arranged for Emma and her friends to have a sushi making workshop for her 17th birthday. The party was less than a week away when she died.

We have not been back to our favorite sushi restaurant since Emma died. It’s one of those places that I just can’t bring myself to go to without her. We did go to a Japanese restaurant in another town several months ago. We ordered some of our old favorites: a Tiger roll, a Spider roll, a Dragonfly roll; but none of them tasted the way I remembered. I didn’t enjoy it. This is the strange and winding path of grief, I guess. Some things bring happy memories and a feeling of connection; other things we shared seem spoiled or out of reach. There’s nothing rational about it, no explaining it. It just is.