Best if used by May 26, 06. It would never have had a chance to see the end of '05, that 4 pound tub of Creamy Skippy Peanut Butter. Never. Aaron would have made quick work of the 1.81 kg of roasted peanuts, sugar, partially hydrogenated vegetable oils (rapeseed, cottonseed, and soybean) to prevent separation, salt. (That's what the label says. Maybe the other stuff is OK, but rapeseed, I think is what's used to make lubrication oil. Could be wrong, but I don't think so.)
Aaron's daily brown bag lunch, put together every morning by Cathy, included his favorite PB&J sandwiches. This net wt 64 0z tub was probably opened in April, '05. Aaron may have made a good dent in it, but nearly a year later it's still in the pantry.
Today marks ten months from the day of Aaron's accident. Patrick wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before being dropped off for school. Cathy made the sandwich. The sandwich triggered memories.
Amazing how an innocent sandwich can take a full grown Mom and reduce her to tears and less. She never saw it coming. How many PB&J sandwiches does a Mom make in the years it takes to raise two boys? I don't know for sure, but I do know this tub of saturated fat more than peanut butter. When it's gone, an era ends. Another link to Aaron's life dissapears with the last spread.
Cathy and I spent some time sitting on the boy's old swing set today. Doc was digging in the sand box pulling out their old play guys, buried for years since they last battled for the supremacy of the sand world: half of a Batman, a Joker car with three wheels, He-Man in perfect fighting condition, a Spider Man, a chunk of maybe Superman, and an unidentified figure. We talked about the days when Aaron could fly on her lap on the swing with Pixie Dust. He loved Peter Pan. Cathy recalled the day Aaron, sitting on the swingset, realized that he would never be able to fly. For a kid with a healthy imagination, having his wings clipped meant more than being "grounded" it ended a dream.
Swingsets and sandbox toys were left idle more than a couple of years ago. Their stillness is different and give us a quiet, contemplative feeling. Music, clothes, guitar, razor, shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrush, books, and peanut butter containers hurt to the heart.
I took a look at that peanut butter tub this evening. Smells like peanut butter. Tastes like peanut butter. But works like Kryptonite. I screwed the lid on...tight.
Ten months and wondering what might have been.
Tom
Post Script from Cathy:
I remember telling Aaron that he was 17 1/2 years old and old enough to make his own lunch. His response was "Mom, this is one thing I think you should always do for me." I agreed and made it along with notes on his napkins (like when he was in elementary/middle school). On my 1st day of working for you in April, 05, I was eating my bag lunch and there was a note in it that said, "Have a great day! Love you. Love AJ" I still have that note. My heart aches from missing him.
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