One weekend, my husband suggested we cook together. I'd spoken to my mother earlier that day on the phone. I ' d told her about our life. She yawned （打哈欠） and we said goodbye to one another. I didn't know then that 16 hours later, my mother would1 .
My mother was my best friend. After she died, 1 felt 2 . She was the only person I wanted to talk to. The 3 person who could help me was the one who was missing. My mother gave me many things, 4 she ' d never taught me how to cook. She liked to eat more than cook. She loved to eat fish pie and 5 it to us for dinner. Almost every weck, she would6 a prepared fish pie. Then she would bring it home and make her own white sauce.
My mother 7 got around to teaching me how to make a white sauce and I never got around to asking her. Now that she was gone. I would have to teach 8 .
So this became my focus. For the first few weeks, I survived on cheap food. But one night, a fish pie mix 9 my eye at the store.
As soon as I got home, 110 myself in front of my electric stove. I tried to 11 myself to make a white sauce.
Halfway through the recipe, I couldn ' t believe it - I ' d made a white sauce ! Then I remembered :I had always12 the fish pie.
Admiring my sauce, I wondered 13 I wanted to make dish 1 had hated for 25 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 14 calmed me down .
It helped me find 15 .
