Hard Days

It's been a hard week. I lost my maternal grandfather and it truly breaks my heart. Even when people are older and frail it doesn't prepare you for death, for knowing they won't be there when you call or write them letters.

Now both of my grandmothers are alone and that really gets me. My grandfathers represented Alabama to me and the different aspects of it - one a freewheeling Church of Christ gospel royalty hobo entrepreneur, the other a sly-joking Navy man full of rivers, dirt, and hard work - both had amazing accents harking of Fayette and Walker counties. Both left legacies of grandiose stories and a trail of descendants who love them.

Oh, what? You want me to be cute?

 Dadow's funeral was gothic. It was held in the Helena City Cemetery and we all sang Trust and Obey and the voices carried over Joe Tucker lake on the breeze. It was haunting on such a sunny day. Lillian was my levity. She wore seersucker and watched the proceedings with Dadow's blue eyes and MamaSue's cheeks. She quietly sat in Judge's lap and I hugged and hugged her afterwards for being so good, and for being so young and holy.

"Infants and old folks belong to God," Judge said. Yes they do.

Lil says hi.

Miss you Oliver Cornelius Dobbs, Jr. You too, Charles Verner Patton. You are both icons to me.