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To be honest, I didn't want to go. Don't get me wrong, Auntie Rose's macaroni salad is to die for. Summer air, ice cold drinks, and smoking meat teasing the tastebuds? What's not to like. Retold memories amidst new ones in the making all spell one thing - our family barbeques. The laughter never stops.
That's just it. Uncle Rence wasn't going to be there. He passed away last year and it wasn't going to be the same without him. His laughter was like the ignitor on our bbq, a few chuckles from him and the whole party lit up. And oh! How he loved Mom's spareribs!
"Don't go shy on the spareribs, Mel," he'd quip to my mom, or if he was going to be late, "Spare the ribs for me, Mel."
Everyone loved Uncle Rence and his expiry date came too soon. I know God doesn't make mistakes and to trust His Sovereignty, I just don't agree with Him right now, that's all.
As the sun danced with the trees and the birds sang in mockery of Uncle Rences' absence, my body joined in the festivities of the barbeque while my heart sat on the chair.
"C'mom, Ben, snap out of it," my brother pleaded as he gave a more powerful serge to the frisbe he'd tossed to me. It sailed right past me and CLUNK! Right into the side of the tray Mom was carrying, the aroma of freshly bbq'd spareribs wafting to my nostrils. She'd been laughing with Auntie Rose and so caught off guard that the tray lunged out of her hands. I ran in front of her, grabbed the tray in mid air, but had too much momentum and was going to barrel right into her. I tried to twirl backwards like an awkward ballerina, but the grounds' call won. I landed on my back with the tray of spareribs securely resting on my chest.
As I layed there still gripping the tray, I could hear Uncle Rence's voice in my head, "Spare the ribs for me, Mel!"
Perhaps he was there afterall.
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