I spoke to my mother that weekend on the phone. I told her about my life. She seemed to be very tired, so we said goodbye to each other. I didn't know then that just 14 hours later, my mother would1.
My mother was my best friend. After she died, I felt2. She was the only person I wanted to talk to. The only person who could help me was the one who was never3
My mother gave me many things,4she had never taught me how to cook.' She liked eating more than cooking. She loved to eat fish pie and5 it to us for dinner. Almost every week, she would6a prepared fish pie. Then she would bring it home and make her white sauce. My mother 7tried to teach me how to make a white sauce-and 1 also didn't ask her. Now that she was gone, I had to teach8.
So this became my focus. For the first few weeks, 1 survived on cheap food. But one night, a fish pie9 my eye at the store.
When I got home, I 10myself in front of our electric stove(炉). I tried to teach myself to make a white sauce.
Halfway through the cooking, I couldn't believe it-- I'd made a white sauce11! Then I remembered: I had always12fish pie.
Admiring(欣赏) my sauce, I wondered13 I wanted to make a dish I had hated for 20 years. Why was it suddenly so important?
I poured the sauce over the fish. Then I ate the pie. I realized that the act of cooking14 me down. It helped me find15. And I realized that my mother would accompany me forever.
