A Cup of Coffee in Remembrance of Grandma

Ila Schaafsma (1930-2009)

Ah, coffee; warming my hands that surround your mug. I love your fragrance that fills our house as you are ground and brewed, and awakens my nose as I lift you to my lips. As your familiar taste flows over my tongue and down my throat I am transported back to a culmination of all the experiences we have had together.

I remember when we first met. It was after church at Grandma and Grandpa Leep’s, where practically since birth we had a weekly ritual of milk and cookies or zucchini bread, and eventually were permitted to have a little coffee with our milk, until the day that we knew we were adults when we could have it black, and strong, just like our parents and Aunts and Uncles. You became a weekly fixture, associated with family and love and everything good.

You came with us on fishing trips, were always available from Dad’s thermos, and in later years helped me study and graduate from college. You soothed my nerves during job interviews, and even though my first husband banned you from our home you later played a key role in “get to know you” dates where I would find my DH (Dear Husband) and soul mate. How I remember our second date, when we drank coffee and talked together until the Starbucks at the bookstore closed. You whispered, “this is it.”

It is only fitting, then, that I drink a cup of you in remembrance of Grandma Schaafsma, who passed away one week ago today. You were omnipresent at her house, and she made you in her image—strong, independent, yet soothing. You were my favorite gift from her, whether in the form of beans or her homemade cappuccino mix that my classmates in college begged me to share. I remember drinking you many times at her house on holidays including Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. We even joked that it was you and cigarettes that kept her alive.

I knew a few weeks before she passed when she said that she no longer had a taste for you that something was very wrong. And after bravely battling cancer for three years, it was time for her to go home. We miss her, but know that she is in a better place, drinking the best kind of coffee from pots that are never empty.

And so we will carry on, remembering our loved ones and memories with each sip; until one day at our own funeral luncheons people will be drinking coffee in remembrance of us.

Ah, coffee.

Grandma’s Coffee Mix Recipe

1 cup instant coffee creamer – 1 cup instant chocolate drink mix – 2/3 cup instant coffee – 1/2 cup sugar – 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon – 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg. Combine all ingredients. Mix well. Store in airtight container. Use 3 tablespoons mix to 1 cup of hot water.