Mourning Soup

We walked into her house, I was immediately struck
by the deep rich smell of
frying onions, celery and bacon.
Family members packed every corner
of that tiny cottage, all sitting, standing, quietly,
while my Great-Aunt fluttered about happily,
cooking an immense pot of soup,
throwing in all the left-over, dried up remains

from her old, mustard-colored fridge.
"You know what she's makin' don't you?" my mother whispered to me,

No I replied
"She's making her version of Goulash.

But what she doesn't know, sweet girl,
is that she's REALLY making Mourning Soup."

I stared at my mother...trying to understand, then,

looking around at everyone dressed in black,
from the funeral of my Great-Uncle,
I noticed that my Grandmother was missing.
My Great-Aunt's own sister wasn't there with her.
Shortly after having a bowl of soup, we left to walk down the road to my Grandmother's house. As we walked, I asked my mother why Grandmother hadn't come to the funeral.

"Probably because she knew her sister didn't want her there, baby."
Why?
"Well, after your Grandpa died your Grandma stopped taking care of herself and your Great-Aunt had her move in with them. There were whispers in the family that one day, your Great-Aunt walked in on your Great-Uncle while he was comforting your Grandmother. 

You see, sweet girl, every family has problems. Even families that send their monthly payments to Oral Roberts and have the velvet Jesus staring at 'em day and night. Everyone can get bitten by the ignorance bug at least once in their life."
Do you believe it happened?
She was quiet for a moment, and then, stopping in the middle of the road and turning to me, she answered, “Well, baby, only three people in this world know for sure what really happened, and we just buried one of them. I also know your Grandmother and your Great-Aunt don't act much like sisters and haven't for decades and it's damn sad, don'tcha think? Now he's dead and their relationship is STILL spoiled cream in the cupboard. A lifetime of hurt over something that probably honestly began as an innocent comforting embrace.
It's a sad, damn shame."

We walked in silence the rest of the way. The only sound, the rustle of our black dresses and the click of our heels echoing off the pavement as the big oak trees nodded in respect to our bewilderment and sorrow.