Well, y'all. It's been a rough week + in CNLand.
A dear family friend took his life last Thursday and we had his service yesterday. I am a sad, sad girl. See - my first memory of him is when I was seven and our family moved into our house in Brookhaven next door to theirs. It was June - I had chicken pox - my grandparents who usually took care of us any time needed couldn't because (oddly?) neither of them ever had them - and our AC wasn't working. So the very nice lady next door insisted I come over and lay on her sofa and watch TV (our cable wasn't working either- geez, moving is fun!). And from that day, when their oldest son brought me Cokes and paid attention to me - our families were friends. What 15 year old boy puts up with a random little girl his mom has stay over? He was that sweet.
At the service yesterday, I was happy to hear the (note: very young) minister mention the same things I remembered about him: he was kind; he loved music - his bedroom was on the side of the house next to ours and often he'd play the keyboard or piano and have his window open and I remember hearing it at night; my dad's 40th Surprise Birthday Party and my brother and me, and his brother and him making our appearance then going to hang out in their carriage house, which I thought was so cool; dinner with our families every Christmas night (after my grandparents left for B'ham to see my uncle, aunt and cousin, and before they left the next day for their family in AL also- it's how I learned to make good white rice, from his mom); my wedding day brunch his parents threw . . . I could go on . . .
Southerners - maybe most people - like to comfort with food. So you find things like this at a visitation:
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| Cucumber sammies, pimento cheese, fruit plates - it's how we roll for grief in the South. |
I couldn't eat a bite - even when one of my mom's (and his) very sweet friends tried to get the Sweet Man and me to sample something, but in a horrible situation like this there was something comforting about the spread that had been set out.
I pray none of you have to lose anyone to suicide. It is truly seminal. When a grandparent dies - when someone who's been terminal dies - those are things we can (almost) wrap our heads around. When it's a kid, or a brilliant person who takes their life . . . so much harder. What do you say? What do you do? I don't know. But at least we know how to make some good food. And then, hopefully, know to keep tabs on the people truly devastated - family and closest friends. My prayers are up and my memories are fond. It was a truly hard day and will continue to be hard for all who loved him.
Still, yet again - I say that food plays a part in all the significant events of our lives. Love + Food + Relationships. They endure.
Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal
