A Soul Brother’s Kitchen: Nourishing My Body and Spirit

There are people who walk into your life and never leave—not because it’s easy, but because the bond is deeper than friendship. It’s family.

Agustín and I have been walking through life together for nearly 30 years. We met during a time when we were both carrying invisible weights. He was losing his beloved mother to brain cancer—his greatest love and anchor. I, on the other hand, was alone, quietly trying to stand after years of pain and silence that no one should ever have to endure.

He saw me when I felt invisible. Supported me when I had nothing and no one. In him, I found not just a friend, but someone who helped pull me out of the dark. Over the years, we’ve traveled, laughed, cried, and grown into family.

We try to see each other every year, and though we always cherish our time together, this visit was different. This year, everything feels more fragile, more meaningful—with all that has unfolded in my cancer journey. And so, when he walked through the door this time—with a ladle, a freezer full of soup, and the same heart that once helped me heal—it meant more than ever before.

The Healing in His Hands

This visit came at a time when my body was tired, my energy low, and the path ahead steep with treatments and uncertainty. I didn’t have much to give—not in movement, not in conversation, not even in energy to host the way I would’ve loved to.

But Agustín didn’t come expecting anything. He came to give.

He filled my kitchen with aromas of home—my favorite soups simmering on the stove, quesadillas fritas crisping to golden perfection, pozole rich with memory, pancakes that made me feel like I was back in easier mornings. He made bread pudding that could’ve won awards, if love were the judge.

And beyond the flavors was the intention: nourish her. Not just feed her body, but remind her that she is cared for, that she is not alone. He stocked my freezer with love, every container a quiet promise: I'm here, even when I'm gone.

The Beautiful Chaos in Between

There weren’t grand plans or outings. My energy didn’t allow it. But there was something even better: the familiar noise and presence of someone who feels like home.

He’s not a quiet person—let’s be honest. The clattering of pans, the Judge Judy commentary echoing from the TV, the random YouTube gambler videos filling the air—Agustín brings life and sound with him wherever he goes. He is big in heart and body, and when he’s around, you know it.

And somehow, in all that beautiful chaos, I felt at peace. Because peace doesn’t always look like silence. Sometimes it sounds like breakfast sizzling, like belly laughs, like someone you love just being fully, unapologetically themselves.

In his presence, I felt safe again. I felt the echoes of who we were, and the strength of who we’ve become.

A Promise Wrapped in a Goodbye

When it was time to say goodbye, there were no dramatic farewells—just our tradition. The same words we always say, no matter what:“See you next year, okay?”

It’s a promise more than a plan. A quiet agreement that we will both keep showing up—for ourselves, for each other, for the love we’ve carried through decades.

For me, it means something fierce and gentle all at once: I need to make it to next year. I want to be here. I want to open the door again and see him walk in, pot in hand, smile on his face, love in every gesture.

That promise is now tucked in beside every container in my freezer, in every noisy, joyful moment we shared, in every memory of the meals he made.

Because sometimes healing comes not from medicine, but from presence. From soup. From laughter. From someone who says, “I’m with you, even when I’m not there.”

If you have a soul brother or sister, someone who has walked through fire with you and still shows up with kindness in their hands—hold them close. Thank them. Tell their story.

And if you are that person for someone else, know this: your presence, your meals, your quiet company—it matters more than you know.

May we all have someone who shows up with a ladle, stocks up your freezer with love, and carries a heart that whispers, “I’m with you, even when I’m not there.”

Until next year, my dear Agustín. 🌿

To those who read me, support me, and walk this path with me:

Thank you.

I know it’s been a month since I last posted, and your continued presence—your patience, your messages, your quiet company—means more than I can put into words. Life has asked much of me lately, and I’ve needed time to rest, to process, to simply be.

This space remains a home for truth, connection, and healing. Thank you for holding it open while I found my way back to it.

With all my love,

Malena 🌿💕