How to Celebrate Those You Have Lost
The story of our inaugural Robert Burns Supper
I lost my dad and grandfather this past year. Within 90 days of each other.
Suddenly I was the only man atop my branch of the family tree. Two great role models, along with their infinite wisdom, were gone. Just like that.
How do you ensure loved ones are not forgotten? How do you celebrate those you have lost and help their spirits live on?
Find little ways to honor them every day.
Yesterday presented the perfect opportunity. It was Burns Night, a Scottish celebration in honor of their National Bard, Robert Burns.
Burns Suppers occur around the world to deliver an Ode To the Haggis, gather family and friends, and raise a glass (preferably of single malt scotch) to one of the greatest Scots ever.
My dad always talked about “Robert Burns Day.” This was usually in the context of my Mom always talking about St. Patrick’s Day and her Irish heritage. It was a friendly duel across the British Isles.
My dad and grandfather came from a long line of Scots. Three of my dad’s four grandparents were born in Scotland. They were very proud of this lineage.
In fact, one of the last text messages I received from my dad before he got too sick was wishing me safe travels on a trip to the “old country.” I was headed to London, and my dad used the opportunity to tell me how “Scotland is never far from my heart.”
We never celebrated Robert Burns Day together.
My dad and I often talked about the great Scottish poet, and anytime I walked past his statue in New York City’s Central Park I’d send a picture to my dad. Unfortunately though, we never seriously discussed having a Burns Supper.
I was determined to change that this year. In honor of him and my grandfather (my dad’s father).
With my son in particular, I want to make sure he never forgets his grandfather and great-grandfather. I want him to appreciate his heritage and ancestors before him. Their sacrifices. But most importantly, what they gave to the world and what they did for their families.
Obviously, I cannot force these sentiments, but if I never allow my son to feel them, he probably never will.
How will he know these great men - and other family and friends we have lost - if we don’t celebrate them? Even if it’s just a little acknowledgment each day or on occasion.
Robert Burns Day warranted a bigger celebration.
As a gourmand who enjoys poetry and Scottish culture, I decided to attempt our inaugural Burns Supper. In honor of my dad and grandpa.
We had to address a few preliminary issues, however.
First, the Burns Supper revolves around its main dish: haggis. If you don’t know about this Scottish delicacy, you should.
Haggis is a delectable combination of sheep liver, heart, lung, and more, all cooked inside the sheep’s stomach. When I was in Scotland with my mom and dad back in 2015, my dad and I enjoyed haggis meatballs, but I hadn’t tried the traditional sausage-style presentation with the sheep’s stomach as the delivery vehicle.
The biggest issue here is that I live in America. Our Food & Drug Administration prohibits haggis inside the United States (primarily due to the ban on animal lung products).
So I either had to find a variation on the traditional recipe or get even more creative. Given my wife is not very adventurous with animal gizzards - and I don’t blame her - I opted for a vegetarian solution.
Enter vegetarian haggis.
I found this lovely recipe from a vegan Scotsman, followed it word for word, and was able to execute it pretty well. But you be the judge:
Another issue: my mom and sister were not present to join us for Burns Supper. So we all decided to celebrate it remotely.
My mom sent gifts to our families filled with Scottish treats and books. She even decorated the centerpiece of her dining room table with knights that looked like Robert the Bruce himself.
This was a big deal for a proud Irish lass.
My sister and I shared pictures and videos of our respective children enjoying their treats from “Nana.” Who doesn’t like Scottish shortbread? I don’t think any of the toddlers needed caffeine from the Scottish black tea though.
I hope my dad and grandpa were smiling somewhere. Even if they would have been disappointed with a vegetarian version of haggis.
When my son asked that evening, “Is Robert Burns coming to dinner?”, I told him: “He’ll be with us here in spirit. Just like your Papa and Great Grandfather.”
He nodded his head while locking his eyes with mine.
Then we said our Ode to the Haggis and cheered our scotch (with my son cheering his water glass).
My dad and grandpa may be gone from this world, but we’ll keep celebrating so they’re never gone from our hearts.
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