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 Remember to visit me on youtube and subscribe.

For more about Dale:

If you want to read some of my fiction, download my book, Zoo of Human Frailties, for $2.99 USD

199 thoughts on “Is There Bacon in Heaven?

  1. I, too, am very sorry for your loss, Dale. But I CAN know what you’re feeling; for I lost my utterly beloved husband to cancer, when he was 68 and I was 62. Do you think that’s easier than losing your husband young ? I don’t. I was too old to remake my life: the hole torn in it couldn’t be repaired. Just not enough time. I’m 75 now, and feeling every day of it; but what did help me through the first terrible, terrible six years before I re-joined the human race was that I wrote a book about our life together. It was incredibly therapeutic.
    You have a turn for writing: why don’t you think about doing the same …?
    I LOVE your work; but am totally flummoxed by your reference to ‘drawing’. I had thought it was a woodcut !

    Liked by 4 people

    1. What a wonderful Idea. I might think about putting a book together with my stories. It is a drawing. I have had other people tell me they look like wood cuts. If you look at the youtube link at the bottom of the article, there is a video of me doing the drawing. I really appreciate your feedback. Thanks so much.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. May I suggest that you approach the writing with the intention of having it published, rather than of self-publishing ? There’s something about writing with that goal in mind that encourages the writer to produce her very best work, complimenting the subject. 🙂
        You might think about approaching a literary agent, too – I didn’t do that, and was published by a company who were perhaps not the right people for me; but I was too excited to wait.
        I’d love to know how you go, if you feel like sharing. I shall add a ‘page’ to my blog about all this …

        Liked by 2 people

      2. Thanks so much for the advice. I will look into getting an agent. I don’t know if I feel knowledgeable enough to publish myself. Also, I’ll keep working on developing an online presence. That might help.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Thanks so much. As a nurse who has had to deal with many people dying, I don’t think there is a good time or way for people to die. Every death is tragic in its own way and I’m glad you shared your husband’s passing with me. We can feel lonely together and like you said, we can keep in touch.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. This is a heart rendingly beautiful piece. You are a beautiful writer. I am so glad you found me so I could find you. Now I’m about to read this piece again 🙂 The title drew me to it; that and the drwaings

    Liked by 3 people

  3. I am quite sure that there is bacon in heaven. A man as loving, kind and patient as your husband is probably waiting for you in such a memorable place. Keeping his good memories in your heart will ensure your seat next to him in that great diner in the sky. Bon Appetit. 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I have to tell you, Dale, that you brought tears to my eyes reading this post. It was such a wonderfully romantic remembering!! Your post was as masterfully penned as was your drawing! Loved the time lapse of your drawing – Awesome, My Dear!!

    Please come give my poem – “I Still Hear Your Voice” a read? I would appreciate knowing your response, if you would be so kind.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. A well written story that I thoroughly enjoyed. I don’t know who said it and I’m not sure I have the exact words but one of my favorite sayings about bacon is something like “Life expectancies would increase dramatically if green vegetables smelled like bacon.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I was thinking of putting together some chapters for a book but I’m not sure how to go about doing it. I’ll have to start looking into it. Thanks for the feedback. It’s nice to have such wonderful support

      Liked by 1 person

  6. That’s deep and so sad. But you can still conjure up one of the best descriptions of ‘diners’ that I’ve ever read…
    Here in the UK, we used to have a chain called ‘Little Chef”. They were great in their day, but got overtaken by the fast-food chains and became a bit irrelevant. When our children were young, we always had Friday tea at the nearest one – on a hilltop between Bolton and Darwen. To this day I can remember the griddle sounds and the delicious smell of my ‘Chef’s Grill’ – essential a supersized breakfast – being prepared a few feet from where we sat, mesmerised with delicious hunger… Keep smiling. Loved you drawings.

    Liked by 4 people

  7. Reading this, I am reminded of my own stories. My husband and I moved to Chicago when we first met. We lived in a very small apartment first in Wrigleyville and then further north, in the Edgewater area. The apartments were always small because we were almost always on the edge of broke. But, we still tried to find a decent meal. In Wrigleyville, there were perfectly good restaurants, but money was tight. When we moved up to Edgewater, the money was finally better, but the local restaurants were pretty awful. Lacking other options, we kept going to a diner that was run by a Chinese couple who apparently had no clue what American food was supposed to taste like. It was so bad, it became a running joke to us go and see if they could make anything right. They never had ketchup available for french fries–offering us rice wine vinegar instead. We eventually moved to Forest Park, leaving bad restaurants behind. Then my husband died and I left Chicago too. Now, whenever I dine at a particularly bad greasy spoon, I feel a certain melancholy and nostalgia. Thinking, my husband would laugh and remind me of the Edgewater joint. Despite my occasional forays to revisit the Windy City, I’ve never returned to that particular diner. Not because the food was so bad, but in case it turned out, that it no longer was. I don’t know if some memories just need to stay imperfectly perfect or because revisiting the past never tastes the same as you remember.

    Liked by 3 people

  8. Oh this write up evokes so many emotions! I could picture everything that you wrote about, the diners, the breakfasts, the jolly old times, to sitting by oneself sipping a cup of coffee, imagining and knowing the presence of a loved one around you!

    I am so glad I chanced upon your blog! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I love this post and I’m surprised I have not commented on it already. The title got my attention of course as i love bacon. And I love diners. My husband and I drive to Florida and one of our favorite places to stop is Waffle House for breakfast lunch or dinner and we always eat breakfast no matter what time of day it is. We are both older now and we realize that one or other of us may not be there in the coming years. so we both try to spend as much time together as we can and enjoy life’s little pleasure like diners and people watching. Your post is beautifully written and brought a tear to my eye. thank you for sharing your story so beautifully.

    Liked by 3 people

  10. To answer your caption: Probably not! Looking at the religious promises, we may all look forward to our ‘after life’ and – that prohbably entails the pig as well as humans, don’t you think? Which is why there’ll most likely be no bacon! Nor anything else edible. I guess? And as there’s no farming land anywhere else (We have have been looking several billion lightyears through space by now), the obvious answer is so close that mankind seems unable to grasp it:
    The most likely answer would be that ‘the end’ means just that! Everything has an end. Every living oganism we’ve found (short of virus) seems to end its active life at som point, and why on Earth would the human race be any different? Our atmosphere is a very thin an fragile amount of air that may disappear at any moment if the gravital forces of the Eart were changed only a fraction, thus there wouldn’t be much room for anytyhing over time?
    And outside of that an ever expanding Universe holding a freezing temperature of 281 degrees C below zero!
    Not a place to roam about in any thinkable shape or form!
    My conclusion: No bacon, no afterlife, no hell, nor heaven and – no God! No nothing!
    And at some point – billions and billions of years from now the Earth wil be swallowed by an expanding sun,
    and in the very end even our sun and parts of this galaxy of ours will be sucked into an enormous black hole never to be seen or heard of again! Am I worried? Should you be? Nah! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I remember reading a story about a mother whose son was dying of cancer. She told him all kinds of stories about what heaven was like, she said it was like Disneyland, it had everything you could ever want there. She did it so he wouldn’t be afraid of dying. Such a sad story because when he did die, he turned to her and said “I’m dying aren’t I?” So he knew at the end that it wasn’t what she told him it would be. The question really isnt if there’s bacon in heaven. The question is where do we go if anywhere.

        Liked by 2 people

      2. I’ve always been agnostic so that means I withhold all judgment and am willing to accept whatever happens when we die. I dont believe in the traditional view of heaven up on the clouds, Angel’s playing harps but I will entertain the possibility of that heaven. I think it’s more likely to be a different kind of eternity that we are unable to comprehend with our limited understanding.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Basically, I agree with you. Scripture says “we will be changed:…so I accept what the Bible says by faith and certain hope. But ’tis a puzzlement, to quote Yule Brenner, in THE KING AND I….!

        Liked by 1 person

      4. I haven’t really been looking to watch it, it just sounded like a blast from the past. I assume you mean the one with Yul Brynner

        Liked by 1 person

  11. You are such a brilliant writer… “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.”

    Wow. And so many other parts too.

    These kinds of stories help us better understand others in our lives with similar experiences, and help us better understand and/or value our own lives as well. All the more when they are so beautifully and simply told. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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