May The Circle Be Unbroken

Our neighbor across the street died last night. Lung cancer. Very sad.

I hadn't formally met the man; we've only been here since August, and in that time I have been swamped with health issues of my own. However, anytime he was outside on his porch, he smiled and waved, and I've said "good morning" to his two grown sons every day as I walk the kids to school.

When the police, firetruck and ambulance showed up last night, I knew something had happened. I suspected that he had passed away, but hoped that he was just in need of the hospital. Being the Southern girl that I am, when I saw all the other neighbors outside, I went and joined them. That's when I found out that he had, in fact, died.

We all stood about, talking, and generally just being there. We stayed out of the family's way, in front of our own yards instead of theirs, visible, though, letting them know we were there, and they were in our thoughts.

Of course, the first thing that popped into my mind when I found out what had happened was, "I need to go make macaroni and cheese casserole." A true testament to my heritage and background, the first thing that entered my mind was feeding the family. The first food that entered my mind was baked mac & cheese.

You see, where I come from, and from what I understand, in the rest of The South, food is what we do for the grieving. It's what I've always known. I'll never forget, I was back home when my Papa died (also of lung cancer), and as soon as he had been taken to the funeral home, people started showing up with casserole dishes, baskets of biscuits and buckets of fried chicken.

It's just The Southern Way, and more than any words, it conveys our sorrow, our solidarity, and our love. It's what Southern women have been doing for generations. It's what I feel the overwhelming need to do.

So off to the grocery I go - I need to pick up a toss away pan and some elbow noodles; I have some comfort to make.