Is There Bacon in Heaven?

“Art is a line around your thoughts.” Gustav Klimt

I love diners almost as much as I love churches. They smell of lard and pancake syrup. And there’s the constant sound of sizzling, the lick of bacon grease hitting the heat, the cook shouting from the back “order up.” And let’s not forget the fact that they serve breakfast all day. I could eat breakfast foods any time. I’m not sure why other foods exist. Sausage, bacon, pancakes, Belgium waffles, syrup, butter, eggs over easy, eggs sunny side up, eggs scrambled. All of them hot with salt and pepper. Fried potatoes with ketchup. Buttered toast with peanut butter or jam or sometimes both.

I haven’t eaten in a while.

Anyway, this drawing was sketched at a diner in Cardston, Alberta. I ate there with my little sister once, and the waitress stayed with us talking as if she were really interested in our lives. We left her a good tip. She was just a local girl with a quick smile and a friendly nature. She probably grew up on a farm, one of a million small town girls who make the world a nicer place to live in but have no idea that they do.

I’ve eaten at a lot of breakfast places. Years ago, my husband and I made it our mission to find the best breakfast diners. When we started the search, the breakfasts were $2.99 or $3.99. You can’t find deals like that anymore. My older son was just a baby when we started the search and we sat him in a high chair and handed him pieces of potato and bacon as he drooled. We could never decide which restaurant was the best. We preferred the privately owned diners with torn upholstery and chipped table linoleum. Maybe some photo displays of staff and their families. Maybe cow shaped creamers. It didn’t matter where we went, they were all good.

I haven’t eaten at many of those places since I lost him. And on those few occasions, I would sit alone at a table and watch as his ghost came to visit. He’d smile a ghostly smile and laugh his big laugh which I couldn’t quite hear. I always loved the sound of his laugh. So I pretended he was really with me. I wanted to people watch with him or make up conversations for the other customers like we used to, but of course, I couldn’t. Now, I just sit quietly in my chair and look at the place where his face used to be and I can almost hear his soft voice. And I can almost smell his aftershave and run my finger along his jawline. He’s quiet in death, the way he never was in life. And I pretend to take his last piece of toast or bacon when he’s not looking just to see the look of shock on his face.

Even after he got sick he still went with me to a few diners although he lost all interest in food. He went with me because he loved me. But he could only sit with strangers for so long and the greasy food made him sick so he just picked at it. His vision was almost gone so we couldn’t watch the other customers. And for some reason, when I made jokes, he just didn’t seem to understand my humor anymore. But he pretended he did because he loved me.

I tried to keep going with the breakfast search but it was too sad for me. Every time, I went I would see my young, healthy husband arrive and watch him deteriorate to the blind old man with bad kidneys and a bad heart. I would spend the rest of the day fighting back tears and swimming through a quagmire of regrets. So I had to stop. I still eat breakfast foods though, who wouldn’t? But I can’t go to the diner’s anymore. I look at them longingly whenever I pass. And I wonder if there’s bacon in heaven.

This image can be downloaded at dalegreenearts.bigcartel.com. Remember to visit me on youtube and subscribe.

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177 thoughts on “Is There Bacon in Heaven?

  1. Hi, it’s always good to see your artwork and to read your posts here. I know what you mean about dinners and eating breakfast foods at lunch or dinner time. Breakfast is always good anytime. I appreciate you sharing about your husband…my condolences. I can’t begin to understand what you have been through but I am glad for your art and your ability to share. I do know something about having made memories with a special person or persons. You know the memories you will never forget. The smells, sounds and textures bring you right back as if they were here a minute ago. Oh I want to believe there is bacon in heaven or at least the smell I hope is there. Thanks again for this post.

    Liked by 6 people

      1. You are so kind…listen, I know you don’t know me from Eve…but if you believe in people that seem to be in your life not by accident…here i am…I don’t think it was an accident for me to run across your blog and vice versa. I think you may be a private person. I know I am but there are times when it seems I need to reach out….so here I am….DM anytime…my email is exposedloving@gmail.com. if you don’t want to connect as a possible friends or a fellow artist….no worries. All will still be well…Peace to you and yours.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Great piece, you captured the character of a prairie diner! I love them too, we stop at them when we can. I use to work at one when we lived out on the farm and it was as fun working there then as it is eating there now. Your ability to express the changes in your life without your husband aren’t just emotionally moving – you no doubt reach a chord with those who face that same sorrow that comes with loss but you also help remind those of us who haven’t lost someone yet to pay attention to the time we have and I thank you for that insight. I’m so sorry fro your loss – my best friend lost her husband and there was so much to learn and adjust to for her – experiences changed. Unfortunately I lost her last year to cancer but I’m sure she would have appreciated reading your posts and feeling like somebody really understood. You are brave, honest and one heck of an amazing artist!

    Liked by 6 people

  3. Loved your story and understand your reluctance to go to a diner. They are the same now too. One of our favorites nearby has a senior discount for a breakfast served until 10:30. It’s anywhere from $1.99-2.99 for the tight budget. Yes, of course there’s breakfast in heaven! ^__^

    Liked by 4 people

  4. Sorry for your loss, I can relate to having lossed to many people dear to me.
    Having said that, now let me write to you about funny idiotic nonsese but with a bit of sense to lighten the mood.

    First off, it seems you are from Canada and you eat breakfast in dinners….you weird people. Second off…. I forgot but I can make a good vegie salad.

    Liked by 5 people

      1. Ingredients
        1 cup mashed sweet potato
        1/2 cup smooth nut butter of choice (I used cashew butter and almond butter)
        2 T pure maple syrup
        1/4 cup cocoa powder (I used half dark cocoa powder, half standard cocoa powder)
        Handful of chocolate chips (optional)
        Instructions

        Preheat the oven the 350 degrees, grease a small cake pan or loaf pan and set aside.
        In a small microwave-safe bowl or stovetop, melt your nut butter with your pure maple syrup. In a large mixing bowl, add the mashed sweet potato, nut butter, maple syrup and cocoa powder and mix very well. If using chocolate chips, stir them through.
        Pour the mixture into the greased pan and bake for around 20 minutes or until cooked through. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely before slicing into pieces.
        Notes
        These brownies are best kept in the refrigerator and best eaten when cooled completely. They are freezer friendly too.
        By Arman @ thebigmansworld

        Liked by 2 people

      2. I wrote two posts about God by following what you suggested and I wanted to share them with you, but I need to figure out how to find the link. I will show you after I find the two links…

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Very touching. My wife and I have the same ritual. Going to little diners, coffee houses – little out of the way places. I know that it would be agonizing to lose either of us. Thank you for visiting my blog earlier.

    Liked by 4 people

  6. This really touched my heart. Beautifully and honestly written…thank you for sharing your story with us. I am sorry for the loss you have experienced. Sending you a warm thought to keep you company.

    Liked by 5 people

  7. I’m afraid breakfast is a bit out of the question, existing chiefly in my Alaskan thoughts, while living my mortal existence out in Denmark! I like both your stories and your drawings, but I can’t imagine how you figured out how to read about Lola, my imaginary Amazon of Alaska? Writing is a catharsis, and that helps us deal with whatever else life throws at us! I look forward to reading more from you in the future…..

    Liked by 4 people

      1. I was thinking I would love you to illustrate my poetry. I have had a small collection published but not any of the poems you have read on WordPress. I have just submitted a collection of 75 poems to a number of publishers . If I get lucky I may suggest some of the poems be illustrated. Just a thought, Dale.

        Like

  8. I started reading this and was nearly drooling, as I could eat breakfast anytime too–and diners offer something that big restaurants lack. And then I got sad–I’m so sorry you lost your husband, he sounds like a true prince. And you know what, I truly believe there’s bacon in Heaven! And gravy (with biscuits) will be served as a beverage for folks like me πŸ™‚ Thanks so much for visiting my blog, so I’d know to come over here and have a read. May you be much-blessed ❀ Ennle

    Liked by 4 people

      1. I have mixed roots–born in New York, parents from the south–and I definitely have 2 sides: one is “edgy” (NY), the other is warm and homey, “come sit down and I’ll fix you a plate of smothered okra” πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

  9. Beautiful sentiments and writing. It’s not as poignant as the parts about your husband, but my favorite line is: “…one of a million small town girls who make the world a nicer place to live in but have no idea that they do.” It’s very human and very true. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 3 people

  10. Vicariously living your loss like this has left me weak. Love brings us the potential for the greatest bliss and the greatest pain. We learn this the hard way. But I don’t guess love is after a uniformly balanced middle-of-the-road breakfast. It wants the extremes. I wish pain and loss didn’t follow it around, but maybe the contrast is there to make love’s meaning visible to our souls.

    I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you for this glimpse of true love.

    Liked by 3 people

  11. Thank you for sharing this. I love diners, the smell, the sounds. My family thinks I’m crazy because I love them all – the small ones, cheap ones. It’s as if the greasier the grill, the better the food. But those smells always evoke memories. Always.

    Liked by 3 people

  12. Truly sorry for your loss. I’ve come to think in the past two years, (after… our own loss) that that was how “ghosts” came into… belief (?). The ones we lose retain so much presence we can hear their voice as we close our eyes. πŸ™‚
    Now, if there is any Heaven, what good would it be without bacon?
    Take care.
    Brian

    Liked by 2 people

  13. This was the first post of yours that I read when I stumbled across your blog and all I could say was ‘Wow’! Such a beautiful tribute and your drawing is fantastic! I’ve never seen a time lapsed drawing video before and I’m in awe! You’re wonderful! πŸ˜ŠπŸ’›

    Liked by 3 people

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