Southern Peace, and Comfort

#89 David Glenn Underwood 

As we pulled up to the house, the lawn was full of every type of motor vehicle one could imagine. Admittedly, I am not the best driver, so, finding a spot that I can fit my truck into, that I won’t get blocked in or have to squeeze back out of when I’m leaving, appeared to be the difficult task ahead.

Finally, I find the perfect place that I should just be able to roll in or out of once it’s time to go, we park, and began to unload our bags to take inside.

When I moved to Quincy, almost 20 years ago now, I would say the only funerals I had ever been to at my then age of thirty-five, were those of elderly family members. Since moving here, unfortunately, I cannot even tell you how many services have been added to that list count, none of them blood family, but most family just the same.

We entered the house and it was of course, packed inside with as many people as cars were parked outside. With each step I took, so many familiar faces were spotted, hugs given and taken, and from the front of the house all the way to the back, as I made my way with the bags, there was nothing but love and compassion on every single face I saw.

Just inside the doorway of the kitchen, women were bustling in every direction and the smells were like you had just stepped into the best country diner in the world! They were laying-out and arranging all the food that had been brought in, getting it all ready for anyone who’d like to come back, grab a paper plate and a plastic fork, and taste some of the best food prepared by southern cooks.

Before I moved here, I ever never seen the likes of such. City folk don’t seem to carry that tradition around in their pocket. The first thing that starts happening when any death occurs here, are the phone calls, and folks trying to decide who will bring what food, and who is in charge of the paper goods.

That’s what we do in these times of grief and sadness, we feed people. We feed them, we gather round them, and we talk about most everything but what brought us together that particular day in the first place. We laugh and tell old stories back and forth, and we visit. We visit with people we haven’t seen in forever and a day, because life gets busy and we don’t seem to have the time, until something horrible happens, that makes us stop and recognize what the most important thing of all is: family and friends.

This county lost a young man this past week, David Glenn Underwood, way before he reached his prime and far too early for his Mama and Daddy; that is just not the way the cycle of life is supposed to work. The entire Underwood family has always been so good to me and mine, so I continue to send love, and prayers for them to have peace and comfort to get through the days ahead.