Thursday, February 16, 2017

This What We Do

My daddy passed away.  He lived almost 81 years in the community he was born into. Married 60 years 7 months to my mama. He passed in the wee dark hours of the morning. Word spread quickly. Before mid day food began to arrive. By night fall the dining table was full of food, the house was brimming with family and friends. We were all tired and "blare eyed", as my mama calls it, when you can't sleep or so tired you can hardly see. Oh, the sweet sight of caring faces through the blare eye is beautiful.

Drinks, as in Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Dr Pepper, Sweet tea, Unsweetened tea, pounds and pounds of ground coffee, paper products....and I mean PAPER products! Toilet tissue to last months, mega packs of paper towels, boxes upon boxes of "Kleenex", napkins, cups, plates and FOOD. Food from the local Chicken and Bar B Que, Bojangles, and best of all home made everything. This is love. This is, I care. This is, We grieve with you.  This is community.

I have been part of this death ritual my entire life.  Somehow, on the receiving end of it all, there is a bag of emotions all mixed of humility, honor, shared humanity and kindness.

Almost everything on the Bojangles menu in large quantities stacked and ready when the family returned from making funeral arrangements.

A local special sausage cooked early morning. Biscuits made, Hand delivered for our breakfast by my cousin and his wife.  This is Love.

Phone calls, Drop by visits, of course with food,to give a hug and say I care.

Times like this binds our family cord a little tighter.
Morning after the funeral. I step out on the porch. It is warm for February. The chairs are still. The porch is quiet. The air swirls with memories.