When the one-year anniversary of my mother's passing came around, I found myself in the kitchen preparing some of her favorite dishes. As I poured myself into cooking, some of the deep sadness I was experiencing at this one-year mark moved through me. I loved my mom's turkey soup. I remembered the time she made some especially for me. It was summer then and I had a terrible head cold. She arrived unexpectedly one afternoon at my work place with a huge jar of her turkey noodle soup. At the thought, I began to feel a little more relieved in the pain of losing her. It was then that I realized I was reconnecting with my mother through food. I laughed a bit at myself when I reflected on all the dishes I had cooked that week. Without knowing it, I had created a beautiful ceremony to honor my mother and to comfort myself at this vulnerable  time. I suddenly felt my mother at hand and was filled with her presence. I was so uplifted and excited that I began talking to her, imagining she was there. "What else should we make?" I asked of us both, wanting to keep the ceremony from ending. "Irish Potato Pancakes," was the reply. I hesitated. The thought of these brought up another loss. The last time I made potato pancakes was two and a half years ago. I had taken off my engagement   ring and never found it again. Since then, I resisted using that recipe even though I really liked those pancakes as if it were partly to blame. My mom should know better than to suggest these, I thought. She knew how upset I was about losing my ring. But despite these hesitations, I found myself caught up in the joy and celebration of the moment, and I reached for the cookbook without another thought of the ring. My mom did love Irish things. I opened the cookbook and turned to the pancake recipe. At once, something at the bottom of the page caught my eye... It was shining! Amazingly, there, pressed into the pages of this book, was my diamond ring! That day, I made potato pancakes in the shape of hearts. It can be inferred from the passage that her mother   _  .
was connected with the writer through food taught the writer how to cook pancakes actually still lived with the writer found the ring for her daughter
Question: When the one-year anniversary of my mother's passing came around, I found myself in the kitchen preparing some of her favorite dishes. As I poured myself into cooking, some of the deep sadness I was experiencing at this one-year mark moved through me. I loved my mom's turkey soup. I remembered the time she made some especially for me. It was summer then and I had a terrible head cold. She arrived unexpectedly one afternoon at my work place with a huge jar of her turkey noodle soup. At the thought, I began to feel a little more relieved in the pain of losing her. It was then that I realized I was reconnecting with my mother through food. I laughed a bit at myself when I reflected on all the dishes I had cooked that week. Without knowing it, I had created a beautiful ceremony to honor my mother and to comfort myself at this vulnerable  time. I suddenly felt my mother at hand and was filled with her presence. I was so uplifted and excited that I began talking to her, imagining she was there. "What else should we make?" I asked of us both, wanting to keep the ceremony from ending. "Irish Potato Pancakes," was the reply. I hesitated. The thought of these brought up another loss. The last time I made potato pancakes was two and a half years ago. I had taken off my engagement   ring and never found it again. Since then, I resisted using that recipe even though I really liked those pancakes as if it were partly to blame. My mom should know better than to suggest these, I thought. She knew how upset I was about losing my ring. But despite these hesitations, I found myself caught up in the joy and celebration of the moment, and I reached for the cookbook without another thought of the ring. My mom did love Irish things. I opened the cookbook and turned to the pancake recipe. At once, something at the bottom of the page caught my eye... It was shining! Amazingly, there, pressed into the pages of this book, was my diamond ring! That day, I made potato pancakes in the shape of hearts. It can be inferred from the passage that her mother   _  .
A. was connected with the writer through food
B. taught the writer how to cook pancakes
C. actually still lived with the writer
D. found the ring for her daughter
Answer: