One of my husband's favorite dishes is fried chicken. In fact, he could eat it every day if I allowed it. I'm reminded that like my current Honey.... my original Honey loved chicken. In fact, she sent me to Church's Fried Chicken to get her a drumstick in what would be her last real meal before she received her Heavenly wings. I've shared this story many times and it always brings a smile to my face -- and others -- amid the feelings of sadness and a longing to be in her physical presence once more.

Honey was sick and the doctors had her on a SUPER strict diet. It really almost seemed like a diet you'd reserve for an infant. Well, one day, I came home from work and she was in the bed. She didn't feel well, she was hungry, and asked me to go and get her a fried drumstick. I very gently reminded her that she wasn't supposed to have food of that nature. In the following moments, she very "un"-gently reminded me of who she was! The BOSS! :-) She yelled that I better go get her a drumstick and right now! I was so scared at hearing her yell at me that I jumped up, frantically grabbed my purse, and rushed out of the house. I jumped into her beige Chevy Citation and sped to the Church's at the corner of Lancaster and Overton. When I rolled up to the menu board and the worker asked for my order, I yelled into the microphone: "A drumstick!" She promptly asked if I wanted anything else... and she might have started down the line: "...cole slaw, fries, a Coca-..."

"Noooo!" I said emphatically. "Just a drumstick!" I pulled around, grabbed my order, and raced back to 1567 North Atoll Drive. I don't know how Honey was able to stomach that meal, but for at least a few minutes... I didn't think about her being sick. She didn't think about being sick. She just savored that golden drumstick. To this day, I'm reminded that I brought her true happiness with something so seemingly insignificant: a piece of chicken.