In the eight years of Wannabe TV Chef this is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever written.  Ever.

When I read the posts on the blogs of some of my favorite food writers, many of whom are good friends, I am struck by how much of their personal lives they put into writing.  I, by design, have never done a lot of that.  Perhaps it is a male thing, perhaps it is humility.  I don’t know.

But this must be written.

With few exceptions everyone loves their mother.  They think she is the greatest woman who ever lived.  I am no exception.  I am not alone in admiring my mother.  Everyone, and I mean everyone who has ever met her has admired and loved her.

Like most boys my father has always been my hero.  It just so happens that my father/hero is also a genuine hero, a professional hero if you will.  In four years with the Air Force and 36 years as a deputy sheriff he did things that saved lives and helped those in need.

In 1991 I made the decision to drop everything and move to Nashville to try my hand at the music business.  My mother told me once that she thought that was the bravest thing she’d ever seen anyone do.  Through the music years, the writing years, the chef years and even the wannabe TV chef thing my mother has rooted for me.  My mother has always been my biggest fan.

As I write this my mother is lying in a hospital.  The end is inevitable it’s just a question of when.  It could be days; it could weeks; it could be hours.  Every time the Droid chirps my heart breaks a little more.  I’ve already lost track of how many times I’ve had to pause to cry just writing this post.

You want to know what uncomfortable looks like?  Picture a 300 pound Southern man sobbing like a baby.  That’s my life the last 48 hours.

In my 2010 cookbook Third Coast Cuisine I included my mother’s biscuit recipe.  Her biscuits were always so perfect for digging through gravy as they had a crunchy crust but a soft inside – I call them Soppin’ Biscuits.  I would feel morose asking you to buy the book to try them so I will include the recipe below for free.

So yes, my heart is shattered but I can’t complain.  This is as good as losing a loved one ever gets.  My mother turned 78 in November, celebrated her 57th wedding anniversary just last week.  She and my father loved and raised four children, two grand children and two great grand children.  She’s earned her rest.

Still it hurts so much.  As I left the hospital tonight it dawned on me that it was the same building that she had brought me into the world.  My life started in that building and her life ends there.  Man, that sucks.  Everything about this sucks.

Tonight we said our goodbyes.  Many people don’t get that chance.  We need look no further in the food writing world than everyone’s dear friend Jennifer Perillo who suddenly and tragically lost the love of her life this past fall.  Jennifer and Mikey’s story wasn’t done yet but life is like that sometimes.

So as I sit here, my heart breaking more with each new tick of the clock, I feel selfish for feeling this sad.  I’ve had it good.  Embarrassingly good.  I know that my mother is going to be with our Lord and Savior.  I was never raised to be a judgmental Christian, an in your face Christian.  I was raised to be Christ-like.  To love everyone and to care about them without judging.

My mother deserves a tribute but it’s not her nature to want one.  So I will do what I know she would want.  My mother never heard of Jennifer and Mikey but if she had she would want to help Jenny and her girls.  So please visit Bloggers Without Borders to contribute to A Fund for Jennie.

Tonight I got to tell my mother goodbye.  I got to tell her that I love her; that I’ve always loved her.  I was able to tell her how much she has meant to me.  I told her that I was happy for her.  She gets to go be with her father and with Jesus.  She told me that she is going to be an angel.

I told her that she has always been one.