Repasts

Excerpt from Interview with Kourtney Galloway

Q: How do you all handle funerals, repasts, and food when there’s a death in the community?

A: The first death I can really remember—that made me feel just how close our family is—was my cousin Pam. She passed from cancer, and that was incredibly hard because we were so hopeful. I was in middle school at the time. My mom and I were living in Georgia, but we drove down constantly. I remember how strange that felt at that age—being back and forth—but we were at the hospital all the time. We’d cook enough food for everybody, load it into the car with paper plates, and bring it right back to the hospital. That’s just what we did.

When she passed, it was especially difficult because most of that side of the family were her siblings. I have so many cousins because her siblings had children, so it’s one of those big interconnected families. In moments like that, our role becomes clear: those of us who aren’t the direct siblings or spouses step in. Me, my mom, my sister—we’re the ones asking, What do y’all need? What can we take off your hands? Yes, we’re grieving too, but we prioritize making space for the ones carrying the deepest weight.

So, we do the heavy lifting—handling errands, coordinating food, being the extra hands—so they can cry, pack up her clothes, flip through photo albums. That’s just how we move.

The next loss that really shaped us was my great-grandmother—my granny. That one hit me hard, even though we lived in different states. I was either in Mississippi or Georgia; she was in Alabama. But we were close. She was one of the first people I felt genuinely believed in me. Her passing brought us even closer.

So, to answer the question: I think we handle loss by leaning into each other. That’s our healing. That’s how we grieve—by showing up and staying close.

Q: It’s unfortunate sometimes how death brings us closer together. But it happens so often where it gives you a chance not only to grieve but, as you say, like being able to serve people who are grieving; I think this is so important.

A: Absolutely. And I’ve noticed I carry that same posture outside of my family, too.

One thing about us—if we love you, if we care for you, if we know you—you’re family. No exaggeration. I found out recently that a couple people I’ve called cousins my whole life are just my actual cousins’ friends. I was like, Wait, they’re not blood? Because when something happens in their family, we’re still there.

If they lose someone, the question is always: What do y’all need? Do you need a ride? Flowers? Do you need somebody to order the chicken for the repast? You want me to call the church and let them know what you need? That’s just how we love.

Even recently, one of my friends lost her grandfather. And without even thinking, I was texting her, “Okay, I can do this. I’ll call my cousin to do that.” Mind you, my friend has never even met my cousin. But I knew she would help because that’s just what my family does—when somebody needs something, we’re there.

My grandma’s neighbors down the street are another example. We grew up intertwined. When their matriarch passed, I was down there every day helping them go through pictures for the video, calling people for the repast, just… showing up. My grandma was picking people up from the airport.

And sometimes people resist that help at first—like, No, I should do it. And we’re like, Yes, but you need to focus on what matters most. Let us handle the small things so you can actually grieve, process, and be present.

Another recent moment: my cousin’s brother-in-law passed, and his mother was grieving deeply. I stayed at her house for a full week—she didn’t want to be alone because she knew she’d break down. And it was strange in a way—I’m 22, and she’s 66. But I told her, You need to cry. Don’t be embarrassed to cry in front of me.

I helped her put together the obituary. My grandma baked a cake. My mom made lasagna. Just little things. I had only met her a few times. I had never even met her son. And people were like, You’re doing all that and didn’t even know him?

But my response is always: I know her. And that’s enough.

Because it’s not about needing something in return. It’s about the fact that someone I care about is hurting. And if I can do something—anything—to ease that hurt just a little bit, I’m going to do it.