Family

Several weeks ago I was honored to attend the funeral of  Evelyn Hickman Williams, a 92 year old woman who lived on the Shore most of her life. Her family owns the local Funeral Home. I heard her referred to as “Mother” and “Granny.” I heard about her Sunday dinners of Roast Beef and gravy. I heard that she ministered to families and that she was often tardy. She taught Sunday School for 5o years. Her life was grounded in Scripture. After the funeral the women of her church fed over two hundred people. It seemed to me that the community wanted to serve the family that served them.

I attended as a guest, not knowing of that possibility.There were a few familiar faces, people who I have only met recently.  All were welcoming. Many times I was moved to tears during the service and afterward siting at a table with Benny who had worked with Mother’s family since he was 12 years old, now retired himself. I was introduced to two men who in their 70’s had known each other since they were 2. Children ran around freely. Teenagers gathered in a room to eat alone.

My family lives midway and all the way across the  country.  We see each other as frequently as possible. We talk nearly every day. We are together for vacations and most holidays. We know the value of spending time together. Yesterday I missed my family. Missed hearing our specific vernacular. Missed holding the baby, Caroline, holding Jackson’s and Emma’s  little hands, smoothing hair and lightly placing kisses on their cheeks. I missed  being know as my children’s mother, my grandchildren’s Nana. Longing for belonging.