Pay My Respects

I’m fixing to go pay my respects to the dearly departed.

Nobody ever just dies in the South, but rather they become the dearly departed, they pass away, pass on, receive their heavenly reward, or depart this troubled old world when they take their final journey.

Also, in the South there’s a proper way to do several things when someone goes on to their eternal rest. One of these is the way you dress. A true Southern lady keeps a nice black dress and a true Southern gentleman maintains a clean black suit just for these occasions.

In anticipation of some dear soul departing this life, all true Southerners always keep at least three casseroles in the freezer.

Proper funeral food is a must and the top 10 list includes baked ham and fried chicken, followed by the casseroles in order of popularity: Chicken and rice, broccoli, green bean and grits.

Let’s not forget the pound cake, banana pudding, deviled eggs and congealed fruit salads that always adorn the table of the person who has no need for food anymore.

But grieving builds up a powerful appetite, and we must be prepared.

It’s a good thing there is always plenty of food because invariably there is always someone who makes some spirits available.

On this particular occasion it was my Cajun Cousin T-Bob Avery from New Orleans. After the wake and the funeral, to make sure the dearly departed’s final journey is complete, everyone drops on by the house to scarf up the remains of the casseroles and tell stories about our loved one who has gone on to his reward.

Evidently Cousin T-Bob overdid his traditional task because an altercation broke out in the kitchen between the dearly departed’s widow and his secretary over whom was grieving the most.

It seems the widow was being physically restrained from feeding the secretary deviled eggs, which she didn’t want to eat, by the brother of the dearly departed, whose black suit was being permanently damaged with egg yoke.

It was when the secretary’s momma intervened and began ranting about the promises the person we were all grieving over had made to her daughter, that I knew the dearly departed was probably glad he had left on his final journey.

At this point I grabbed the last two deviled eggs off the tray and headed for the back door, deciding I was fixing to be departed myself.