Sunday marks one year since Mother Lovett passed away.

Some days it feels like it has been years, other days it feels like minutes.


A year ago at this time, we were holding vigil in her hospital room. There were consistently about 7-8 of us there at all times. And while she only regained consciousness every few hours, she knew we were there.

She died just like she did everything else in life – stubbornly.


It began on a Tuesday. We all knew it was the end, and so did she – she had the mind of a 30 year old. We figured it would be over by Wednesday. So did the nurses. As the friends poured in to the hospital room, we all waited patiently – just like we always did for her. If anyone taught me patience, it was her. (Ok, her and Mr. How Sweet – he drives me batty).


Just a few hours later, we knew that she wouldn’t let go easily. Or quickly.


So, that’s when the party started.


We were lucky enough to have a large hospice room with an adjoining private lounge, refrigerator, and table. The next logical step was to bring in the booze.

After all, Mother Lovett would have wanted it that way.


For the next few days, six-packs were carried in plastic bags, and handles of whiskey were smuggled inside dufflebags. But, really, do you think we could be quiet?

Most mourn in sorrow and grieve over a loved one’s last few days. We didn’t.


We were celebrating one of heck of a life.


Soon, nurses started bringing us buckets of ice in bedpans and our secret was out. We spent 5 full days reliving her life: laughing about the tissues stuck up her shirt sleeves, giggling about the parmesan cheese in her fridge that expired in 1996, howling over her rolling down the grassy bank while she was picking weeds, and wondering why she was so obsessed with spying on her neighbors.


We reminisced about the time she wrote ‘Merry Christopher’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas’ on one of our Christmas cards, and how her 4-foot frame would teeter-totter in 2-inch heels every Sunday to church.


We didn’t realize the tiny things we’d miss – like the times she’d claim she wasn’t hungry, then eat 2 pieces of our pizza or swipe a cheeseburger from our Happy Meal. Or how she’d talk about the Young and the Restless like she truly knew each character. Or how she’d send us to the store for the 2 most uncomfortable items any grandchild could ever buy – maxi pads ‘without wings!’ and stool softener.


Never did we think that we would miss grocery shopping with her – slowly walking behind her as she pushed the the cart, which she was only as tall as. Blushing wildly and pretending like we didn’t know her as she passed gas with each step down the cereal aisle. Becoming more furious as she argued with us over and over that oatmeal cream pies couldn’t possibly cost that much these days.


And we certainly couldn’t forget the time she passed out from drinking one too many mudslides, only to later mention that she ‘really loved that mudslinger drink.’


We are pretty darn sure that her death took so long because my grandpa was pushing back from the other side. He just wasn’t ready to be nagged again. He was enjoying his peace.


We spent a solid 5 days with her – eating, drinking, and laughing around her as she slowly left this world. It may sound odd, or even disrespectful to some, but that is just how we are. She wasn’t conscious, but I know she felt us around her. There is no better way I can describe my incredible family than to explain those last few days of Mother Lovett’s life. Living, loving, laughing, and crying together to celebrate this sassy, stubborn, sweet and vibrant woman. No wonder she took she long to die – would you want to leave a party like that?


I have to admit – there weren’t many tears shed at Mother Lovett’s funeral. As I said before, she lived an incredible, fulfilled life equally full of joy and struggle. We all knew it was her time to go. There was no better way to honor her than to celebrate a life that was truly lived.

Growing up, Mother Lovett made some fabulous chocolate chip cookies. As we all grew, her chocolate chip cookies reflected her age and physical struggle. Each year, they’d become more brown and burnt because she couldn’t hear the oven timer buzz, and she was too blind to see if they were golden brown.


I specifically remember one beach trip when the cookies were so badly burnt that we stuffed a loaf of bread inside the container. Have you ever tried that?! They cookies pull all the moisture out of the bread and get super soft!


I wish I could share Mother Lovett’s cookie recipe with you. I really do. The truth is, I have no idea what it is. In fact, I don’t even think she knew what it was.

It was just one of those recipes that magically came together with a grandmother’s hand. Mostly because, you know, she couldn’t see the ingredients she was adding to the mixing bowl. And truthfully, I am afraid of some of the ingredients that made their way in there.



I have no recipe to share, yet I don’t really think it matters. Cookies like hers can’t be duplicated.


Some of Mother Lovett’s last words were ‘every time you have a party and are together, think of me.’

If you couldn’t already guess, we do party.

And we always raise our glass to her.

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210 Responses to “Mother Lovett’s Chocolate Chip Cookies.”

  1. #
    1
    Diana — April 23, 2010 @ 3:54 am

    This is truly amazing. :)

    Reply

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    Nicole @ making good choices — April 23, 2010 @ 4:00 am

    Jessica, that was so beautifully written. It is so amazing that you are able to celebrate your grandmothers life everyday and look back on the special and hysterical memories. I will be sure to celebrate my aunt today in a special way thanks to you.

    Reply

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    Joanna Sutter (Fitness & Spice) — April 23, 2010 @ 4:17 am

    What a beautiful post. My Grandmother Lovett was known for her chocolate cookies, too…I wonder if they’re swapping recipes in heaven?

    Reply

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    Sarena (The Non Dairy Queen) — April 23, 2010 @ 4:44 am

    Oh Jess, that was so sweet. I still have all three of my grandmothers (yeah 3…I am a child of divorce) and I am terrified of losing each and every one of them. They are all so special and mean so much to me. My Little Granny is the closest to my heart. We share so many of the same traits (some I wish not so much) and we almost lost her 4 years ago with massive heart attacks. Thank you for sharing your story, I am sure that was hard. I will take some time today to appreciate what I have in memory of Mother Lovett. I hope you have a great day of wonderful memories!

    Also, marshmallows work like bread does with cookies.

    Reply

    • Jessica — April 23rd, 2010 @ 5:24 am

      You are so lucky. I hate that I don’t have any grandma’s left. I really though I’d have them for a lot longer than I did.

      Didn’t know that about the marshmallows. Thanks. :)

      Reply

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    Anna @ Newlywed, Newly Veg — April 23, 2010 @ 4:48 am

    So beautiful!!! My grandfather passed last year, and he died in the same way– with his loved ones celebrating his crazy, hilarious good times. Beautiful writing, girl!

    Reply

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    Jenn (j3nn.net) — April 23, 2010 @ 4:49 am

    OMG, this post had me laughing so hard. I love it! :D Your account of her life is so endearing and joyful, just as memories of loved ones should be. I don’t think there’s anything disrespectful about it, you should be lucky enough to die the way you live. :)

    The cookies look delish.

    Jenn

    Reply

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    7
    Tina — April 23, 2010 @ 5:15 am

    Such a sweet and loving post. I think it is great how you celebrated her life.

    Reply

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    Naomi (onefitfoodie) — April 23, 2010 @ 5:17 am

    that was so beautifully written yet it was so humurous and made me laugh :). What you said how her cookies were a representive of her strength over the years and how they would get a littlemore burned b/c she couldn’t hear the timer, yet every year she still made them. What an amazing woman

    I want to try that trick with the loaf of bread! what a fabulous trick!

    Reply

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    Brittany — April 23, 2010 @ 5:32 am

    What a cute and sweet story! Mother Lovett’s cookies sound amazing – just like her!

    Reply

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    Erica — April 23, 2010 @ 5:32 am

    aw…I am holding back some tears while laughing….how does that happen? I love how you celebrate her wonderfulness and how she lives on in so many of your recipes

    Reply

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    Anne @ Food Loving Polar Bear — April 23, 2010 @ 5:32 am

    Amazing post, you’re a GREAT writer! :)

    Reply

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    Amanda — April 23, 2010 @ 5:41 am

    Hello tears! I am so glad you felt comfortable enough to share this… you are such a sweet and complex and thoughtful person, this insight into your heart has revealed another layer of love.

    Be blessed sweet Jessica!
    Amanda

    Reply

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    13
    shelly (cookies and cups) — April 23, 2010 @ 5:44 am

    oh, you just made me laugh and cry…what awesome memories you have! Grandma’s are special :)

    Reply

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    14
    Teri [a foodie stays fit] — April 23, 2010 @ 5:54 am

    oh this post gave me chills. I love that you partied at her death bed. Now that is a way to go! Such a great story and family love. Thanks for sharing.

    Reply

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    bridget {bake at 350} — April 23, 2010 @ 5:59 am

    What a beautiful post! You have me crying over my cereal. I love that you celebrated her life during her last days. That’s how it should be….she sounds like an incredible woman and you have so many wonderful memories.

    Reply

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    Michelle — April 23, 2010 @ 6:00 am

    Reading this reminded me of when my grandfather died four years ago…a very similar situation (food, booze, and all!) though over the course of about twelve hours, rather than five days. It truly is a wonderful way to celebrate a life rather than mourn a death. My grandfather (Paggie, we called him) finally passed at about 3:00 in the morning. We think he waited until we were all asleep before he went: taking care of us to his last breath. Thank you for bringing these memories back for me.

    Reply

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    Erica — April 23, 2010 @ 6:01 am

    Wow! What a touchy story! Your grandmother was adorable and reminds me much of my grandmother who passed away last November. It was her birthday this week, and seeing your post dedicated to your beloved grandma, I wish I would have done the same! My grandma was the best and very similar to yours. This story had me in tears! Grandma’s baking can never be duplicated, I must agree.

    Reply

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    Lori @ RecipeGirl — April 23, 2010 @ 6:04 am

    That’s a very sweet story. There are a whole lot of recipes that both of my grandmothers made that we have no recipes for too.

    Reply

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    Heather (Heather's Dish) — April 23, 2010 @ 6:05 am

    this is such a beautiful post…and the funny thing is the whole time i was reading it reminded me of both of my grandmothers too! what a fabulous way to celebrate someone’s life…both a year ago and today :)

    Reply

  20. #
    20
    Tina — April 23, 2010 @ 6:08 am

    This is awesome!

    Reply

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    Tracy — April 23, 2010 @ 6:20 am

    What a wonderful celebration of her life!!

    Reply

  22. #
    22
    Sophie @ yumventures — April 23, 2010 @ 6:24 am

    What a wonderful way to remember your grandmother. She sounds truly amazing. I loved hearing about the party in her hospital room — at the end I prefer to celebrate, rather than to mourn. A wonderful life lived, this weekend I will have a glass of wine for you, and for her!

    Reply

  23. #
    23
    Sharlene — April 23, 2010 @ 6:28 am

    What a beautiful post! I’ve grown up with only one grandmother my whole life and she’s everything to me. We have this bond that no one else has in my family. We’d do anything for each other and even now she patiently waits for me to come visit to mention that she’s running out of shampoo or facewash even though she lives with my parents and brother. I can’t imagine ever losing her though I know one day I’ll have to let go as she’s 92 now and getting weaker every day. Your story helps me to know that there’s joy to be had in the celebration of a life, not just mourning of a loss. Thank you for helping me understand that.

    Reply

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    24
    Jolene (www.everydayfoodie.ca) — April 23, 2010 @ 6:31 am

    This post is beautiful. Mother Lovett must have been an amazing woman, and I love how you have so many cherished memories of her to hold on to. Your family sounds like a wonderful family to be a part of!

    Reply

  25. #
    25
    Mellissa — April 23, 2010 @ 6:31 am

    It is hard to believe that it has been a year, how crazy life can be and all the great twists and turns it provides.

    Reply

  26. #
    26
    Kelly Michelle — April 23, 2010 @ 6:40 am

    what a beautiful post, thank you for sharing with us

    Reply

  27. #
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    Eunice — April 23, 2010 @ 6:52 am

    Such a great post. Mother Lovett sounds like a wonderful lady. :)

    Reply

  28. #
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    ashley — April 23, 2010 @ 6:57 am

    when hubby’s grandfather passed away two years ago, we all spent a full week at the hospital after he got moved to hospice care… and they let us bring in the booze :-) the funny thing is that Gpa hadn’t spoken a word in two-three days but we gave him a taste of some Titos vodka and he immediately smiled and said ‘Titos.’ we couldn’t have gotten in a better last laugh :-)

    great, loving post. and the cookies look tasty!

    Reply

  29. #
    29
    Madeline - Greens and Jeans — April 23, 2010 @ 7:09 am

    What a wonderful tribute to your Grandmother! When my very Irish Grandpa O passed away we held a huge wake for him complete with singing and toasts and the retelling of every one of his famous stories.

    Reply

  30. #
    30
    Heather — April 23, 2010 @ 7:24 am

    i love this post.
    i love you.
    i love your stories.
    i love your writing.
    i love you. (did i already say that? if i say it again will it make me creepy?)

    I LOVE YOU. xo

    Reply

  31. #
    31
    Camille — April 23, 2010 @ 7:31 am

    She sounds like an incredible woman.
    You are so lucky to have had someone like that in your life, and I admire your celebration for life rather than mourning.
    Thanks for a happy read to start my morning :)

    Reply

  32. #
    32
    PippaPatchwork — April 23, 2010 @ 7:46 am

    Oh my gosh, that is the most wonderful post! What a loving, humorous, and thoughtful tribute to your grandmother. You clearly inherited her spirit and joie de vivre!

    Reply

  33. #
    33
    Cindy Coniglio — April 23, 2010 @ 7:47 am

    You are one of the most wonderful friends I have . (& you know how many people I know. lol) Reading that made me laugh, cry, & realize how amazing you really are. That was one of the most heartfelt posts I have ever read. I mean that seriously. We are so lucky to have such great family & friends. Love you..

    Reply

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    34
    Wei-Wei — April 23, 2010 @ 8:01 am

    Beautifully written. Incredibly touching. Heartbreakingly honest.

    Honestly, Jessica. This post is so full of meaning… have you ever considered being an author? I find that your writing style is really unique and fun to read, and you’re incredibly funny too… But this, this post is beautiful.

    Your grandmother must have been a gorgeous person. I envy you… God bless!

    Happy Friday. :)

    Wei-Wei

    Reply

    • Jessica — April 23rd, 2010 @ 8:04 am

      That would be my ultimate dream!!

      Thank you so much. :)

      Reply

      • Cindy Coniglio — April 23rd, 2010 @ 8:49 am

        YES! YES YES! YES! That is your passion :)

  35. #
    35
    Jessica @ The Cooking Chick — April 23, 2010 @ 8:03 am

    I love this post. Along with the memories, it’s so great that you have such a classic and comfy food to help you remember your Grandma.

    Reply

  36. #
    36
    Kacy — April 23, 2010 @ 8:07 am

    I have chills. So beautifully written. Don’t let anyone hold you back from writing girl, it’s a part of you.

    Reply

  37. #
    37
    Jessie (Vegan-minded) — April 23, 2010 @ 8:07 am

    What a touching post. I really enjoyed reading more about your grandma. Thanks for sharing! :)

    Reply

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    38
    Midgetkeeper — April 23, 2010 @ 8:07 am

    What a beautifully written post. You have incredible talent when it comes to words.

    This post reminded me so much of my Grandma. I wish I could kiss her and hug her. Thanks for sharing Mother Lovett with us.

    Reply

  39. #
    39
    Yum Yucky — April 23, 2010 @ 8:12 am

    What a wonderful story! This is that way I want it for me. A happy celebration. And memories so fond that complete strangers (like me) will smile from the memories. :)

    Reply

  40. #
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    Alanna — April 23, 2010 @ 8:15 am

    That’s the best reason I have EVER heard for not sharing a recipe. Good for you, she sounds like quite a life force.

    Reply

  41. #
    41
    vingleburt wingeldank — April 23, 2010 @ 8:38 am

    This is just a beautiful post about celebrating a life that was, instead of mourning loss. Thank you for sharing. :)

    Reply

  42. #
    42
    ChubbyNewlywed — April 23, 2010 @ 8:43 am

    Beautiful tribute. I feel like I really got to know your grandma. God bless Mother Lovett.

    Reply

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    43
    Tracey — April 23, 2010 @ 8:44 am

    What a great post. It is very apparent that you love your grandma very much. It is a wonderful thing to look back at memories and smile.

    Reply

  44. #
    44
    Julie @ Peanut Butter Fingers — April 23, 2010 @ 9:02 am

    loved this post. it’s so obvious that mother lovett was one heck of a special (& sassy!) lady. :)

    Reply

  45. #
    45
    Auntie Ann — April 23, 2010 @ 9:49 am

    Beautiful Jess!

    Reply

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    Annie@stronghealthyfit — April 23, 2010 @ 10:02 am

    What an incredible story, and she sounds like she was an amazing woman.

    Reply

  47. #
    47
    Melinda — April 23, 2010 @ 10:03 am

    What great things you have to say in remembrance of her life. I wish I knew the recipe too, although the cookies we made this weekend were good, they were not the best.

    Reply

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    Salah@myhealthiestlifestyle — April 23, 2010 @ 10:30 am

    what a beautiful post

    Reply

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    My Delicious — April 23, 2010 @ 10:59 am

    the best post I`ve ever read! It is so funny, so truly and so I don`t have any words to describe this…

    Reply

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    Kelly @ Healthy Living With Kelly — April 23, 2010 @ 11:11 am

    What a sweet tribute to an obviously amazing lady!

    Reply

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