When I was newly married, my friends Allie and Jerrod had a baby boy, Hudson, who died shortly after birth. It was a terrible shock for them and for all of us. I called my mother and asked, “What do I do? What do I say?” And she said, “You go over there and get in that kitchen and do what you do.” So I fixed some egg salad and picked up a loaf of bread and went over to Allie’s. I really didn’t say much, but I made egg salad sandwiches, wrote down who brought what on a list so Allie could thank them later, kept track of people’s serving dishes, put out the food people brought over, picked up plates and glasses, and washed dishes. I simply tried to keep the kitchen going, food at the ready, and drinks flowing for the family and friends who gathered to mourn and comfort one another. Food is so much more than sustenance. It’s a way of caring, comforting, and supporting, holding up friends and family just a little when they’d rather crumble.