Life, Interrupted

(And my Q2, 2025 Quarterly Cookbook Project Update)

I was still asleep in a king-sized bed on the 34^th floor of the Sheraton New Orleans when I got the call. My stepfather had died early that morning, suddenly and unexpectedly.

In a state of shock, I got up and immediately started packing. I needed to get to my mom. My husband called the airline and changed my flight so I could leave right away. I called the hotel to check out early. The woman I talked to was so kind, I started sobbing on the phone.

I was in a daze, going back and forth across the hotel room, inefficiently double- and triple-checking the closet and every drawer, throwing things into my suitcase so haphazardly I couldn’t zip it closed and had to completely repack it.

New Orleans. View from the 34th floor of the Sheraton (left) and from the street (right).

A friend at the conference rode to the airport with me in an Uber. Another friend, who had just arrived in New Orleans, waited behind security to give me a hug and a breakfast sandwich. The flight home was a blur. The Southwest flight attendant made jokes on the intercom as I looked out the window with tears in my eyes. Her jokes did not fit my mood.

My husband picked me up from the Denver airport and drove me directly to my mom, who was also in a state of shock. She told me that half an hour before he died, everything was normal. My stepdad was packing his suitcase for a trip they were planning to take that day. He unclogged the bathroom sink drain. She took the dog outside and watered the flowers. He was fine. And then, poof, he was gone. It happened so fast, in an instant. She couldn’t make sense of it.

The first two weeks after my stepfather died felt like an alternative reality. I went back to my own house (about an hour away) a few times, but mostly I stayed with my mom – to be there for her and help her with the arrangements. Meanwhile, my husband’s parents were in town and my father-in-law was admitted to the hospital with a medical issue, and my stepmother was scheduled to start radiation therapy - all within the week of my stepfather’s death.

In a normal week, a parent getting radiation would be by far the most concerning thing happening in my family. But that week, as I helped my mom with the funeral, my husband took care of the kids and went to the hospital several times to see his parents. It was one of the hardest weeks I can remember for my family.

Sometimes life has a funny way of throwing us way too much, all at once.

Layers of Loss

There is so much I could write about the last few weeks. I could write about my stepfather, who married my mom almost 40 years ago - the unique person we lost, my relationship with him. I could write about his death or his touching funeral service. I could write about my grief, or joining the dreaded “I’ve lost a parent” club, or this “sandwich” stage of life, with kids and aging parents. But I don’t want to write about any of that - not yet, anyway. For now, I want to write about the smaller layers of loss.

I keep thinking of loss like layers of sandstone in a canyon wall. There are the big layers – the person who is gone, the giant hole that’s left in your life. The way everything changes, suddenly.

In my case, I have multiple big layers of grief right now. In the past year, I’ve lost my ex-boyfriend - the fairly serious one I broke up with just a few months before I met my husband. I lost my beloved Uncle Mark over Christmas. I lost my dear friend from high school and college, Teresa - a feisty mom, wife, and biologist who died after a four-year battle with colon cancer. And now, the loss most directly impactful to me personally, my stepfather. Layer on top of layer.

And then there are the small layers. The little things that are gone, that are missed. The little pebbles of sand in the canyon.

Layers of sandstone. (Echo Park in Dinosaur National Monument, 2020.)

There was version of my life that was supposed to happen over the past month. In that version, I stayed at the conference and presented one more workshop. I spent time with good friends at the conference, had a fun last night in New Orleans, said goodbye to my colleagues. When I got home, I spent a few days with my in-laws, kept all my work appointments, made progress on my eternal “to do” list. My kids went to summer camp as scheduled and had time to relax at the end of summer break. I worked on the homework for my writing class, and went on a weekend fly-fishing trip in the mountains with some friends in early August.

In that version, all six of my parents (my mom and stepdad, my dad and stepmom, and my in-laws) came to cheer me on at the Colorado Book Awards ceremony, where my book ACT for Burnout was a finalist.¹ They were going to attend the VIP happy hour, and I had a big enough group to fill an entire table at the ceremony. Instead, between a death, a hospitalization, and radiation exhaustion, my fan club was much smaller than I expected - just my immediate family. We had a great time, but I kept thinking of how much my parents would have loved it – especially my mom.

At the 2025 Colorado Book Awards ceremony with my smaller-than-expected fan club.

None of these things were very important in the big scheme of things. I’ve been right where I needed to be, helping my mom and attending to my family and my own grief. But that expected version of the past month of my life? That was gone, and I feel that small layer of loss.

Life and Death and Food

When I got that call in New Orleans, I had written a draft of a Substack essay that just needed a little more editing. It was an update on my Quarterly Cookbook project (you can read part 1 here).

I had written about that project, but also about the utter chaos of Q2 (April – June), which is a stressful time for parents. We have the busy end of the school year, followed by summer break - spent either schlepping kids to expensive summer camps across town every day, or with kids just hanging around the house. I had written about the weeds that are thriving in my yard, the daily onslaught of news, the ceaseless dishes and the laundry, and all the usual “full catastrophe” of life and working parenthood.

Reading the draft of my Substack essay now, it all seems so trite. I thought things were chaotic at the time, but that was nothing compared to the last four weeks. Now, normal life feels distant, my usual problems unimportant.

I didn’t cook much the first couple of weeks after my stepfather died. I heated some things up, made a few salads and sandwiches here and there. We survived off quiches, lasagnas, and burrito trays delivered by friends. Now I really understand why people show up with food in situations like this – we were so overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted at first, normal functioning felt impossible.

Now, four weeks later, I’m starting to cook again. I made a few meals last week. I had the energy, and it felt pretty good to get back in the kitchen.

My Q2 Quarterly Cookbook Report (with links to recipes)

I deleted most of that essay draft that felt so trite. But since I already wrote it, I’ll go ahead and share the update on my Quarterly Cookbook project. This is a project where each quarter this year, I cook primarily out of one cookbook, in an attempt to make my life simpler.

My cookbook choice for Q2 was Easy Weeknight Dinners, a new collection of recipes from the editors of New York Times Cooking. It was a good choice for this moment of my life. Even before our big loss, I didn’t have the bandwidth to cook anything complicated. If I wanted to cook at all, it needed to be fast and easy.

This cookbook is my new favorite, and I know I’ll keep reaching for it. I have so many sticky notes for recipes I want to try that I could probably just keep using it the rest of the year and forget this whole project. (And maybe I will do that, I’m not sure yet.)

Some recipes in this cookbook I had made before, from the New York Times Cooking online - like Sheet-pan Baked Feta with Broccolini, Tomatoes, and Lemon, Garlicky Chicken with Lemon Anchovy Sauce, and Lemony White Bean Soup with Turkey and Greens.

Side note: The New York Times Cooking, it’s my main source of online recipes.² I’m always on a treasure hunt for five-star NY Times Cooking recipes with thousands of reviews. In my experience, they are reliably great recipes, and there are a few (like the Crispy Gnocchi with Sausage and Broccoli, Oven-Roasted Chicken Schwarma, Chopped Salad with Chickpeas, Feta, and Avocado, the salad dressing from Via Carota’s Insalata Verde,³ and the Katharine Hepburn’s Brownies recipe my kids make) that we make frequently in my house. I found myself wishing it was easier to find those highly rated recipes, when suddenly one day, this list of their most popular recipes came out!

Back to the cookbook. It contains a nice variety of recipes, and they are all relatively quick and easy. Some I could make at a moment’s notice with food I already had in the house, like the Cheesy, Spicy Black Bean Bake.⁴ Everything I made was delicious, except for one I thought was okay but boring (I‘m looking at you, “Black Pepper Beef and Cabbage Stir-Fry”). Here are three recipes from the cookbook I will definitely make again:

• Coconut Fish and Tomato Bake

• Sesame Salmon Bowls

• Farro with Blistered Tomatoes, Pesto and Spinach

Coconut fish and salmon bake (left) and sesame salmon bowls (right). Yum!

As for the project itself, it’s on a bit of a pause now. I imagine I might keep going with it eventually, but I’m not sure yet. Q3 is already halfway over! I haven’t had the desire or the bandwidth to try new recipes lately. (UPDATE: You can read about how the project turned out here.)

I had imagined something summer themed for Q3, possibly involving a delightful tinned fish cookbook I own called Tin to Table, Mediterranean small plates, and/or charcuterie.

But that seems a little too festive and fun for my current state. Like the Southwest flight attendant’s jokes, it would normally be fine, but it does not fit with my current mood.

Maybe next summer, if I can get a break from people I love dying.

I had something like this in mind for cooking this summer, but it just doesn't fit my vibe right now.

Toward Normalcy

Now, I’m trying to ease back toward normalcy - or as normal as things will ever be again without my stepfather, and while continuing to support my mom. I took some time off work, but I’m getting back to it now. I’m getting my kids ready to go back to school this week, and trying to take care of some of the things I’ve neglected for weeks. At first it was a struggle, but it’s starting to get a little easier.

As I do, I’m trying to follow the advice I often give my therapy clients: Don’t expect yourself to function at your peak in the aftermath of grief. You’ll be tired, you’ll struggle with the basics for a while. Try to go easy on yourself.

It’s easy to say that, of course, but not so easy to do it. I’m trying.

I’m a clinical psychologist, co-host of Psychologists Off the Clock, and author of the books ACT for Burnout and ACT Daily Journal. You can find me online at drdebbiesorensen.com.

1. ACT for Burnout didn’t win in my category, Guidance and Exploration. A book on Colorado glaciers did. But it was an incredible honor to be nominated. It sounds cliche but it really is true!

2. As a NY Times Cooking subscriber, I get 10 gift recipes per month. I checked into whether it’s okay for me to just post the recipes here as gift recipes, so my readers don’t hit a paywall, and it’s questionable. So I decided not to do it. BUT! If you don’t subscribe but want any of these recipes, just reach out and tell me which one(s) you want! I’ll share as many gift recipes as I can until I reach the limit.

3. If you subscribe to NY Times cooking, watch this Cooking 101 video featuring the incredible Samin Nosrat for some salad dressing inspiration.

4. Did you know that black beans have as many antioxidants as blueberries?