What in the heck is a twin cousin? Well, you see, it’s like this. My mom’s twin sister had a boy about my age and over time (growing up) we became cousins who were close, got along, and enjoyed playing together. So, you may wonder, what made me think of my “twin” cousin today. Well, it was the Ada News. There was an article in it honoring some old Ada families. The Katz, Billy Floyd, the Norris and Criswell family. Seeing Tom Criswell’s name (and his picture) made me think of Walker D. Ray (Corky Ray), my twin cousin. It’s okay for you to wonder why.

The events that happened once for mine and Corky’s consideration come to light one day following months of tedious cancer treatments given to my beloved grandma who had been slowly dying of uterine cancer. The 5U4 cancer drugs had mostly kept her real sick. So, they had sent her home to Lula. My family lived in Centrahoma and Julia’s long illness put mama in a long and mostly unsuccessful quest for a driver’s license. A quest that went on forever — until a kindly (or scared) examiner just let her skip her driving test. Corky lived at “Goblers Knob” a secret place out in the jungles of Muddy Boggy north of Lula — toward Allen. Corky would walk over (alone) to join us at grandma’s.

The family knew that her death was near. The day before she died she spied Corky and me playing out in the yard and asked for us to be fetched and put on her bed. She wanted to visit. I remember it well. We were grabbed up, brushed off and laid on her bed and we had a very good and memorable visit. I treasure what I can remember of those moments. The next day we were called back in but only allowed to hang onto the footboard of the bed. She didn’t speak to us that day but spent long moments with the death rattle in her throat. The room was full of spectators. That’s the way families behaved during those moments in those days, Finally, a silence filled the room and Grandpa Will removed his big hat, put his ear to her chest. Finally, he rose and said, “she is gone, let us pray.” I remember well my aunt Oma telling my twin cousin and me that we could now go back outside and play. We did. We had been watching carefully, wishing to see her transit to this place called heaven. Outside we scanned the skies and watched carefully before finally giving up on this mystery. She exited the world, so we thought, in a very secret manner — but we wondered.

Remember the front of this story? It had the story of some Ada folk honoring people whose families had been around and providing leadership for the Ada area for about 100 years.

Corky spotted it first. It was the big hearse from Criswell. We checked the big fancy vehicle out, but it was empty. Corky and I gave up and went back to our play. A few minutes later my mom got us both and took us up on the front porch and into the front room. I knew a casket when I saw one and there was one on a stand. Right there in plain sight. In it was my Grandma Julia. I didn’t know what to think. Corky, too, was speechless. No one stepped up and explained how she had gotten in there. Nor where this casket came from. I told mom I thought grandma was already in heaven.

I related parts of this story (years later) to my friend Tom Criswell. Tom smiled and said, “that was my grandpa.” But, I insisted, how did he do all that? They had no modern stuff, like running water and electric. Tom just smiled and said, those old timers, like grandpa, knew exactly how to do all that. And I guess he did.

Tom chose to let this little mystery of how my grandma got into that casket and on to heaven just drift away. And that’s just as well. But someday soon I hope, after God works His “Heaven” magic, I can continue my visit with my Grandma Julia. And my cousin Corky and I can just continue on with our conversation. We never were found short of words.

Be sure and go to church Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com