Breakfast Burrito (rejected)

 9/16/2026

Breakfast Burrito (rejected)

Can you see how yummy these burritos were? Unfortunately, yumminess was not enough, as Keshav detected something in the first bite that gave him a gag reflex. Let me explain. Sometimes he encounters a texture or shape that he has a visceral response to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not the food is yummy. I used to be more bothered by this, but over time, and with his patient explanations, I have learned that he can't help it when it happens. I am usually successful avoiding the foods that trigger this response in him, but occasionally I will make something that has not caused a problem before but does so now. This breakfast burrito was one of these instances.

He thinks it was the sour cream in the burritos (it was actually Greek yogurt, but he doesn't need to know that), but he has enjoyed sour cream before, even when it is really Greek yogurt. Basically they are the same thing taste-wise in my book. But with this burrito it did not work for him. I felt so badly for him because he felt so bad. I had to reassure him a number of times that I did not feel angry or disappointed--that I understood that he could not help what his body did, but he still felt guilty rejecting the food. 

I worked it all out by eating the burrito myself (yum!), and making him a fried egg over toast, which is one of the dishes that never fails to please him. 

How many of us in relationships miss the mark no matter how much care we put into our effort? For me, love means accepting not just what is easy to accept, but also what is difficult to accept. I am not talking about things like addiction or violence, I am talking about differences between people, or times when one's best effort to make a breakfast burrito results in a gag reflex. Love, real love, is very different than what we were told in bedtime stories. It sometimes ask that we be disappointed.

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I notice that what I write in the "second section" of these posts is often some form of commentary about death, aging, or grief. I initially intended the second sections to be a place where I would talk about what I was noticing or doing in the world at the time, but I have found that my meditations on death, aging, and grief to be much more interesting to write about. Perhaps this is because I sometimes hesitative to initiate these conversations with my husband. Historically, he has not done well whenever I try to discuss planning for my eventual death. 

Look, I get it, but what I also get is that my death is something that is nearer to me than it was yesterday, and it needs to be planned for in the same way that one would plan for an upcoming bar mitzvah--it won't go well without good planning. But what I also get is that Keshav is not the only person I can talk with about this. I can talk to my therapist and I can talk to my friends. Many of them are thinking about this as well. 

Let me be clear that in planning for death, I don't think it will happen for at least another 20-30 years. But it is good to be prepared, because when you are prepared you can focus on living, knowing things are in order. I like order. It makes me feel calm knowing that things are "ready". 

I have been talking with my therapist about grief lately, and in these talks I tell him that I view grief as a path that changes depending on when a person is experiencing it. For instance, we have this idea that it is worse if someone dies in their 40's than in their 80's. Where did that thought come from? I suspect that 300 years ago there were not many eyebrows raised when someone died in their 40's. Perhaps there were more eyebrows raised when someone was still alive in their 80's! 

We discuss how our grief is shaped by how we think about loss, and our relationship to it. If loss is something that is not considered, it will hit harder. I don't know about you, but maybe there was some benefit to having Grandma buried in the backyard rather than in some cemetery that rarely gets a visit. Reminders of death can also be reminders to live, don't you think? I know they are for me. 

Grief is necessary because the brain cannot usually immediately process loss. It takes time, and we call that period of time "grieving". Perhaps the brain could process loss more quickly if it did not have to start from scratch. How can we live fully with the inevitability of loss as an active component? 

I think I might be practicing every time I make Keshav breakfast. I never know if he will be able to eat what I prepare--I accept his possible rejection as part of the process. On the rare occasion when this happens, like it did with the burrito, it is disappointing, but not devastating. I am not equating the rejection of a burrito with the death of a loved one, but what if I did? What if we saw "loss" as part of the air we breathe? What if every rejection/disappointment/death, and the sadness that we feel, were also accompanied by gratitude? How would this change our experience of grief?