Memories of Chicken Gravy and Faith

chicken gravy in gravy boatFifty-five years ago today my papa went to Heaven.  I was five; he was fifty-seven.

When you lose a parent, you want to know more than you yourself can remember.  It  helps if there are others who are willing to share their memories of the person you are grieving.

Over the years, I gathered bits and pieces about my father.  Sometimes it happened in unplanned, casual conversations.   Several times I was able to learn about him by reading what others had written.  Other times, I gathered information because I deliberately asked.

On this anniversary of my father’s farewell to us,  I’ve gone to “The Attic” on My Windowsill and pulled out the story about chicken gravy and faith.  This story helps me fit the pieces together about who my father was; it also reminds me of his faith.

I had other uncles and aunts who never (though asked) wrote down their memories for me.  So I am especially grateful to my aunt Rhoda who willingly took the time to share her memories.   Aunt Rhoda was helping to care for her sister (my aunt Kate) at that time.  Together they pooled their memories and sent them to me in a letter. Because of that letter, I have this story.

This link will take you to the online ezine where this story was originally posted.  Although Discover Southside is no longer being published, you can still access the links there.

Click here to read the story about how chicken gravy is like Faith.

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