Just A Thought:They’re Not Just KitKats

By Elijah Christiane M. Fajardo

Food has a way of sneaking into our memories and forcing a rush of nostalgia in our hearts, forming tears that hold beloved, bittersweet memories. For me, the food that holds the most nostalgia is KitKats. This makes sense—it was only the last gift you sent me before you left us.

Mama, I’m 26 now. By June, I’ll have lived half my life without you, yet I am still the same granddaughter that constantly looks for you in every room she finds herself in.

When we lost you to ‘the big C,’ I feared I might not recover from the loss. How else could a little girl wake up and find an empty seat next to your sewing machine? Years into my grief, I found myself crying less and smiling more at the memory of you. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel defeated that I lost you. It’s as if you never left.

In the last 13 years, you have entered my thoughts without warning. I remember you in the caramel bars that you kept stocked, the special cup you had for your iced tea, and the Christmas hams you brought home way before the holidays. Your memory is alive in everything you loved – it is alive in me.

It was alive in me in each milestone of my life – graduating, getting into law school, entering the school publication, and being accepted for jobs. Between those milestones, I start to see bits of you in me.

Mama, I started running recently. I remember early mornings where I would hear the doors squeak as you find your way out for a morning jog. You used to love jogging inside my alma mater, the same place I went for a run the other day. I see you in me in every stride, every pant, and every kilometer, wearing your black leggings and a towel around your neck. I remember your voice and how excited it sounded when you told me you brought home some KitKats for me. Funny that I do the same thing now, bringing home treats every chance I get.

I see you in me even when I do my nails. I recall how you’ve had yours done in the same pearly color every week. Now, I find myself replicating your color every time, thinking of you through every layer of polish I paint on.

But out of all memories I had with you, albeit limited, I see you most in me whenever I love. In every hug and every kiss I give, I remember the same hugs and kisses you gave me. I remember your soft thick hair falling over my shoulders, the smell of baby powder on your neck when you squeezed me tight, the searing pain of my sunburn in your embrace after an unnecessarily lengthy swim, and the sound “mwah,” escaping your lips at every peck on my cheek.

I guess it wasn’t just the KitKats that made me remember you, but your love that it carried along with it.