What's up with Whatsit

A Sentimental Journey

My mother and grandmother, along with me and my family, went to Clarke County, Mississippi, yesterday to put flowers on my Papaw's grave. I haven't been over there in probably five years, and lately I had been feeling guilty about it, so when the opportunity arose to go, I jumped at it. The trip takes two hours.

When I got there, I remembered why I rarely go to cemeteries where family members are. Nothing is there except the monument. The important thing is the memories we hold.

There had been a little church by the cemetary for I don't know how long - almost a hundred years, but I'm not sure of the exact number. My great grandparents attended that church, and the property adjoined my grandparents land. However, nobody had gone to that church in years because all the members, like my great-grands, had died off, so the church had started falling down. My mother had told me that they had torn the church down, but I still wasn't prepared for the sight of the empty lot. It was heartbreaking.

Usually I'm fairly no-nonsense about stuff like that. After all, it was just a building. However, anything associated with my childhood, I tend to be sentimental about.

My grandmother's old house looks like nobody lives there. After my Papaw died, Memaw couldn't live there anymore and sold it. My Papaw built that house. It looks abandoned, even though people do live there. Papaw had 80 acres, and the house proper is on about five of them, which Papaw kept immaculate, and has now been allowed to run wild.

It was kind of disappointing. However, we did get to see some family members who still live over there, so that made the trip worthwhile. They had not seen my kids - or at least, they had seen Emily when she was 15 months old.

I guess you can't go home again. Or you can, but only if you lower your expectations.