Mr Caldwell has left The Building

I woke up on October 7th to Mom calling to tell me her father died. She was on her way down to Mississippi to see him as his health had taken a turn for the worse, but got the call early that, as his grieving widow phrased it "Your Daddy has gone to Heaven."
Red Caldwell a.k.a. "Popaw" was nothing if not a legend in his own time; enigmatic with a reputation shrouded in mystery and tales of redneck mafia type activity.
Suffice it to say, our little branch were the only ones in the family to still speak to him.
But, the line for visitation went out the door, many from "The Community" showed up to pay their respects and chit chat to those whom they would normally dare not speak to.
At "Memory Chapel" fanciness abounded.

Bran & I put the fun back in funeral, sneaking back into the coffin showroom so I could sneak a few pics and to afford us the opportunity to poke fun at the industry in general.
Care to be laid to rest in a mauve polyester prairie gown with contrasting white lace bib? We got you covered.

There's a Devil on my shoulder prodding me to tell about how his grieving widow behaved while touring the coffin gallery. She may have been a tad theatrical, but my good Southern Upbringing forbids me from posting those intimacies here online.
Now if we were shooting the breeze face to face I'd go into a full impersonation, accent, mannerisms and all...
This is not the coffin she chose. This is the one Bran & I wanted, it was navy blue with a powder blue liner and this killer ocean scene with seagulls and the words "Going Home." I could have airbrushed his shrimp boat "Lady C" in there and customized it right on up! It reminds one of the Popaw uniform: light blue pant/jeans, shiny white leather loafers with tassels, a thin short sleeved button up and a trucker hat with some kind of gold filigree-naval-looking things on the front.
The place had some cool bricks on the floor with a plaque dating them back to 1922. So don't say this post is all tacky vulgarity. Here's your culture right here.
From left: Me, my little cousin Grant, Mimi (Moms mother, Pop's EX-wife), Brandi and Mom.
After driving way out to Smith County Mississippi to plant him in the very soil he so hated, (he grew up there and hated every inch of that place), we met Mimi (who was most certainly not in the funeral procession) closer to home for a big lunch. It was really wonderful getting to see so much family.
My Dad, (Pops X-son-in-law) was one of the pallbearers , and the funeral was on October 10, Dad's birthday. That was weird. But the weirdness continued until it reached miraculous proportions.
Would that I could tell all.
Details in the post to follow...