I always thought it odd when you'd hear that someone died suddenly after a long bout with some disease or other. My thinking was, if the person had been battling with whatever disease he or she had for weeks, months or even years; then how sudden could it have been when they finally passed on?
My sister's father, who'd been fighting the big "C" was given six weeks about two months ago. We knew it was going to happen, but when it did on Sunday, it still felt sudden to me.
The best way I can think of to describe it is like going through a haunted house at Halloween. You're walking through the house, you've been startled and surprised at each corner you turned. It's dark and you are approaching another corner. You know with an uncanny certainty that someone will pop around that corner and go "BOO" and you will be startled and jump, and possibly even let out a little "eek." You know this is a fact, and you steel yourself against it. You straighten your back and put on your best John Wayne, or Bogart or Eastwood face, and you approach the corner with confidence knowing that this time...this time you will not jump or exclaim 'eek'. But then you round the corner the ghostly white painted face and the black robe jumps out and says "BOO" and you jump all the same. Not because you were actually scared or surprised it happend, but because you can't help it. Even though you knew it was coming, when it finally got there, it was still...sudden.
So, I am taking time from work and drive down to Marks, Mississippi for the funeral. But don't get me wrong. I'm looking forward to the trip. I haven't seen my sister in several years so it will be nice to catch up some. Sadly, it seems the only times I visit her in Mississippi are for life-changing events (the last time I was down there was for her wedding back in '94 or '95). I like Marks, I spent spring break with my sister in Belen, Mississippi (about 5 miles west of Marks) back in college. It was a great place. I have fond memories of the Gulf service station in Marks where we bought our 16 oz bottles of beer and played pool in the back room (this was back when the legal drinking age was 18). And of the "bring-your-own-bottle" bar with gaps in the wood plank floors and chicken wire protecting the band. Not to mention following some fellow named Rosebud out to the airstrip so he could drag race with some other fellow (whose name escapes me at the moment). And then after Rosebud gets arrested (for drag racing on the airstrip) going to wake up the local judge for a bail hearing right there on his front porch. It was all very small town, very...Mayberry. I thought I was from a small town here in Topeka, but that's nothing compared to a place like Belen where the only named street is the county highway that runs right through the center of it, or even like Marks where the general entertainment on a weeknight (when the bring-your-own-bottle dance joint is closed) is playing pool in the back room of the Gulf station.
I'll be very interested to see how much of it has changed, and how much of it has stayed the same. I wonder if I get arrested, can we still go over and wake up the judge to set bail for me on his front porch, in his bathrobe?
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