Raising the Dead

"When someone dies you don't know what to do," my friend Will D. Campbell said, "so you make potato salad if you're in the South and take it over."

It's your way of saying, "I care ... I don't know what to say ... and I don't know what to do ... but I love you ... I'm hurting with you ... and here's some potato salad."

On another occasion, Will explained when a friend of his died,  he took a Bible and bottle of bourbon.

"If one doesn't get you through, the other might."

Receiving a message from a friend, I read ... "Will you please write about Ricky? I'm afraid the world's going to forget he was ever here. If you write about him ... they'll be something left for others to be reminded."

Well ...

What does one say?

What does one do?

I'm being asked to raise the dead.

A funny thing about being a writer is ... I can ...and do ... bring people back to life ... at least reigniting feelings, memories and stories in those who loved them.

It's a blessing and a curse ... as my wife often says ... keeping them alive though their stories comes with a cost ... everything comes with one ... in this case it's putting myself back then to recapture them  and ... at the same time ... remind myself of my own impending death.

But ... it costs to bring the dead back to life.

Ricky Hinely was my cousin. We grew up together ... snuck out ... drank beer when we were underage ... shared two girlfriends ... loved music ... snuck off alone to do things nobody knows though perhaps they'll be revealed in Heaven ... and the last time we were together was on the Pier, staring at the Ocean, sharing beers and talking about how it's a shame we grew up.

We went in different directions ... but we toasted the times ... gave each other hugs ... and said "I love you" ... which are the last words I ever told him.

The last words he ever told me.

So today Cuz ... welcome back ... missed you ... want some potato salad? ... maybe a shot? ... then lets open the Bible and get Grandma and Granddaddy here ... sing a few old songs ... make our way to the Pier again ... and tell old stories.

Then we'll do what we did before ... going our own ways ... doing our own things.

Though I do enjoy these visits.

I know you do too.