ode to peanuts, tree nuts
How an Allergic Reaction Sprouted one Final Moment Together
Today I had an allergic reaction. I was caught off guard, especially by the grief that spoke in it all. Today it lived in the form of a pumpkin scone that apparently had tree nuts - pecans to be exact - (thank you kindly, coffee shop to be unnamed). Soon after I enjoyed the first bite, the symptoms quickly crept up on me. My lip began to swell, as the hives grew on my tongue. My throat slowly began to close. I immediately knew. I rushed to find benadryl. Two tiny pink pills down the hatch and I would be fine.
Today was different though. It was the first time I had a reaction and you weren’t there to answer. I couldn’t call and ask you what to do. You weren’t there to make sure I was okay like so many times growing up. But then you were there. The instinct in my reaction, and quick problem solving to find my solution. I just did what you taught me. Your guiding hands were at play.
And then I remembered the last time I actually saw you. Dad and I had returned home the night prior from our spring break trip. You weren’t able to be there with us, but it made you so happy seeing us spending that time together.
That night I was eager to return to school and hangout with my roommates. It was already dark by the time I was all packed up.
“You know Jimmy you could stay home another night and go back tomorrow?”
I was saying bye to you and dad. Dad gave me a kiss on the cheek with his hug, like he usually does. You walked me out and we hugged before I left.
Before I could reach the top of the driveway, I began to feel it on my cheek. An itch, followed by irritation. I stepped on the brake and checked the mirror to find my red cheek breaking out into hives. I already knew it. I remembered the time it happened at Miller Park when I was little after dad enjoyed some ballpark peanuts.
The three of us together.
Quickly, I went back in the house to tell you. I washed my face before you gave me benadryl. You checked to see if I was okay. You were so worried. You reminded me I could just stay home. It was already growing late. I told you it was easier to go back Saturday night so that I could have an extra night to settle in before going back to school on Monday. Hours that I understand were years more precious than I could have known.
Again, you walked with me downstairs to the car. You wanted to spend each extra little second left with me. In my thoughts I can see the two of us hugging outside the red back door.
“I love you so much, Jimmy.”
“I love you too, mama.”
I reluctantly returned to the car, and drove back to school. Neither of us knew it, but this was the last moment of that reality that we had together in person. It was the last time you were able to hold me in your warming embrace. And in the moment you were helping me, protecting me like you always have.
My allergic reaction gave us the gift of one more final hug. A precious gift I will carry forever.
Our last in-person interaction in our previous life was the summary of all your actions - protective love. While it’s not surprising to me, it is wholeheartedly remarkable.
But it’s just what you always have done. To this exact day - December 27, 2025 - your love transcends time in protecting me from my same silly allergy. I was comforted by your guidance today. It was another moment where I felt the sheer emptiness of your absence in physical space, yet the same one that was filled with the ocean of your love.
Incredible.
Mind-shattering.
Perspective-altering.
The weight of your absence is filled with the outpouring of your heart, transcended through space. It is both. You’re right here.
How special…
❤️