Thursday, June 16, 2011

Letter to Anna before College

Anna,
                I cannot tell you how very proud I am of you and the independent young lady you are becoming more every day.  Of course, watching you become more of who you are give me great concern and more than a little fearful at times.  The concerns and fears stem from my own insecurities as a parent.  I’ve been with you every step of the way, but I wonder if I’ve communicated well enough all the life lessons I should have taught you.  Soon you’ll be going to college so in case I’ve missed anything, I wanted to jot down a few key points I hope I have covered in some way.  If it sounds like you’ve heard it all before, that’s comforting because it means I’ve done my job.
1)      Obey the Ten Commandments.  Every question you will ever have about right and wrong can be found in those simple rules.  Remember, God singled each of those out for a reason.
2)      Nobody can ever make you feel inferior without your consent (okay, Eleanor Roosevelt’s words, but I couldn’t have said it better).  There are people in this world who will try to bring you down all your life, but just look in the mirror and remember that you are fearfully and wonderfully made).
3)      Hold your head high when you enter a room.  Confidence is something you can fake until you make and it’s the most common trait measured by others.  Whether you have it or don’t, others will notice.
4)      Remember that once you’ve done something, you can never say, “I’ve never…” again.  Be one of those special people who doesn’t care about fitting into the mold of what’s popular.  The ones who give in to peer pressure (even as adults) are a dime a dozen; they’re forgettable, but the ones who stand up are remembered and respected.
5)      Do the right thing every chance you get.  Even when it makes you later or poorer or more inconvenienced, make a difference and give your time and talents to the ones the world seems to have forgotten.
6)      Remember your name will go farther than your face will ever go.  Your reputation will live long after you’re gone.  Guard it carefully and be careful of the company you keep.  You will find unfortunately that your friends are not always your friends.  There are those who will sabotage you when they realize you have something they don’t, namely character.
7)      Speaking of friends…your genuine friends will most likely be counted on one hand.  We are all human and you will find you will be disappointed and hurt many, many times but one true friend who stands by you in the storm will be worth all the ones who let you down along the way.
8)      Love.  One day you will date the man who will become your husband and the father of your children.  Never let any man near your heart who wouldn’t fight for you with everything he has.  Choose the one who will lift you up, not bring you down.  Choose the one who will be concerned about how to make you happy and someone concerned with becoming a better person daily.  Choose the one who will be the voice of reason in a difficult situation, not someone who will be a voice of difficulty in a reasonable situation.  Choose the one who teaches you that love is a verb, not a noun.
9)      Exercise forgiveness.  The biggest gift anyone can give you is a sincere apology.  Be big enough to accept it.  Also, be merciful to yourself.  You will make mistakes but you will learn from them every time if you know how to forgive yourself.
10)   Remember where home is.  No matter how old you get, how successful you are, how many children you have, how smart you become…I will always be your mama.  I will always be your biggest cheerleader and I will always be that bridge to your childhood when you need to be reminded of simpler times.  And as hard as it will be, I will love you enough to let you go and spread your wings. 
Love,
Mama

Both Parents Gone

Grief is a process. It’s different for everybody. There are many, many more traumatic and devastating stories than mine, but I only know the one I have. And it was traumatic. And it was devastating. And I’m still trying to feel my way around. This is a place I’ve never been. God is a merciful God, and I hope He sees fit to never let me be in this place again.

My beautiful and sweet mother was diagnosed with cancer on December 4, 2010. She had spent a few weeks with us that fall, and we had so many good talks and spent such good quality time together. Had she felt it then? That is a question I still ask myself. She had talked with me about things she didn’t talk about much. She talked about life with a stepfather I had never known. She talked of her first love. She talked of friends she had along the way. And, for the first time in my life, she talked about what it was like when she found out Jamie wasn’t “normal”.

My brother Jamie is almost three years older than me. All my relatives knew that Jamie was different pretty early on. When I came along almost three years after he was born, I was doing circles around him. The family doctor told Mama she couldn’t compare a boy to a girl and no two children develop the same way; she was reassured. Looking back, she would see it as denial. Either way, she groomed her beautiful brown haired baby boy with the most beautiful baby face to go to kindergarten. It didn’t take long for the teacher to tell Mama her baby boy didn’t learn like everyone else.  Mama and Daddy took Jamie to Memphis and were informed that, although he looked perfectly “normal”, somewhere along the way Jamie had suffered brain damage. Mama thought back to Jamie’s delivery and the way they knocked her out with medication as soon as he was born; she realized that was probably when the doctor had realized his mistake. The later consensus was the umbilical cord had wrapped around Jamie’s neck and caused him to lose oxygen. Mama should have had a caesarean, a quick remedy for this, but the doctor in the delivery room decided to forego the procedure and let her have him. I’m sure he quickly realized his mistake, thus Mama was knocked out. She remembers nothing about her delivery.

I was thirty-six years old, hearing from her lips for the first time what that was like. There was no real insight because Mama, as she did with so many cards life dealt her, had just taken the news of Jamie's diagnosis and went on. Jamie would always be slow. He would always be different. He would never be like everybody else. Mama accepted this and raised Jamie the very best way she knew how. He couldn’t learn to tell time or count money, but my parents made sure he learned his manners. He knew early on that if a grownup came into a room and didn’t have a seat, he should give up his and sit in the floor.

When we were little, our parents didn’t treat us differently on purpose. What I mean by that is, we got the same amount of Christmas presents, punishment for the same childhood crimes, and love in equal measures. But Jamie had a way of throwing fits and they were rough! Many times, Mama or Daddy would make me give him my toys if he threw a big enough fit. I never liked that very much. It led to resentment I would show in my teen years, but I completely understand it as an adult. It was bittersweet to hear Mama tell me these intimate details of something she held so personal to her heart; I was sad for the fact that Mama had to go through that. As a mother, I hurt for her as the young mother who learned her child would never be like everyone else.

When Mama found out she was sick, she asked me to promise her one thing. She asked me to promise to look after my Daddy. Wow! Mama was so easy to live with and to love; Daddy was a totally different story. I loved Daddy so very much, but he could be difficult at times. Years before, Daddy had acquired an addiction to prescription medication, and sometimes dealing with him was like Forest Gump’s box of chocolates; you never knew what you were going to get. Daddy was a good father in so many ways. He was loving, nurturing, kind, and the funniest person I ever knew. I had always loved him as every little girl loves her daddy. As time went on and I saw “the real Hank” less and less and  it became a more difficult relationship; however, I learned so very much about addiction so I could learn to separate the loving spirit of Daddy from the deeds of addiction. The hardest lesson I learned was that Daddy was not unconquerable because addiction had conquered him. The moment when you realize your hero is vulnerable can be very scary for a young girl, and I had to learn that way too early.

So, Mama asked me to look after him. She knew I would look after Jamie. Two years before she got sick, she did what none of us thought she ever could do, she let Jamie go live in a supported living home where he would have a roommate and twenty-four hour a day staff. I held my breath when Jamie moved out because I knew in my heart of hearts Mama couldn’t do it. She surprised me. Jamie had some rough days, but I’m sure Mama had the worst end of it. She made herself let him go. Once he was settled in, he went home for an overnight stay every other weekend.  Jamie blossomed. Before he moved out, he wouldn’t go anywhere. He wanted to stay in his room.  His temper flared at every turn and he was obstinate and stubborn. Mama and Daddy tried to encourage him and get him out of the house, but it had been to no avail. When Jamie stayed home, it meant Mama and Daddy stayed home. When he went to the supported living house, he was out and about every day. We were all so proud of him.

For the first time in 37 years, my parents had a life of their own. They moved to a semi retirement apartment and began to enjoy the empty nest. Mama got involved in the activities at the apartment complex. They were always doing something. Daddy, ever the social fellow, enjoyed making friends with the men. He would smoke and talk and kept everyone laughing.

The thing I have to mention about my daddy is that there were so many layers. He grew up with three sisters and three brothers.  He was born slam in the middle. His parents were two people that should have never married. They fought from morning until night. My grandfather was a cruel, menacing man who held a Nazi-like regime over his household. For whatever reason, Daddy was his favorite target. Each one of my aunts and uncles has come to me at one time or another and told me that they had no idea why my grandfather hated Daddy so much, but he was the one who received the most punishment. The sad thing is, there was usually no offense committed; he just seemed to hate Daddy.  Daddy told us stories and showed us the scars, but I think the darkest scars were in his memory and his heart. I will be the last one to ever make excuses for drug or alcohol abuse, but after years of being told he was slow and stupid, I’m sure it did something to Daddy’s psyche to find out his only son was mentally retarded. I think there was a part of him that always felt guilty about that. One never knows what demons lurk in another's soul because of his past. I think this was such a case. My grandfather’s favorite thing to do to Daddy was to kick him in the rear end, always with a rant or curse.

Daddy was never the most dependable worker and wasn’t always a good provider. There were times when he was in a pill-laden stupor and wasn’t himself. One thing I can say without hesitation is Daddy never put a hand on Jamie or me in anger. He built us up emotionally; he never tore us down. He would have never humiliated us. He would never have wanted us to be pained because of his pain.

Daddy did get one thing from his father that was good and pure, his love for music. My grandfather had played guitar and Daddy did as well. Daddy could take a guitar and make it talk. He wrote a few songs and he was talented beyond measure. There is no telling what he could have accomplished if he had only believed in himself. My fondest memories are of Daddy playing guitar and Mama singing. Mama sang Patsy Cline’s songs better than Patsy herself. She would sing soulful ballads like the most depressing one I ever heard, “Patches.” They were a perfect match creatively. Anyone who ever heard them perform a duet was blessed to hear true harmony. Mama was shy about her singing, but Daddy could always coax her into joining him. Looking back on it, I realize that so many people never knew she could sing like that. That lends itself to her humble personality; she didn’t want accolades or applause. Singing was something she enjoyed doing and it was something special she shared with Daddy.

Back to my story. Mama was diagnosed and we didn’t know how bad it was. She found out what she thought was a gallbladder attack was actually cancer in her kidney. Upon further discovery, a very mild case of breast cancer almost eight years earlier had recurred. It had metastasized to her lungs, liver, and bones. She was in stage IV cancer, the final stage. We received good news from the oncologist, though. The doctor said that although she would probably die from cancer, she could fight it for fifteen to twenty years. I will never forget that glorious day we got the hopeful news. We called everyone while still at the doctor’s office to let them know. My Uncle JR had been there and so had my husband.  We definitely left in much better shape than when we had arrived. We went out to eat to celebrate. It would be the last time we would eat at a restaurant together.

I wanted Mama to come home with me. She did. After a couple of days she told me she wanted to go home to her apartment. She and Daddy had gotten separate apartments a couple of months before because he had bad headaches and liked it pitch dark in the house; she liked it bright and sunny. They were back and forth to each other’s apartments all day long and were still very much together. I didn’t want to let her go home, but I just packed a bag and went with her. She sat me down in her apartment that first night and told me very sweetly that she needed some time alone because she needed to process everything. Oh, how I hated to leave her. Daddy stayed with Mama at night and all during the day when she was home, but she came to my house every few days. When her pain got worse, I convinced her to stay with us all the time. She still missed Daddy, but she knew we were better able to take care of her.

I wish I could say during that few weeks we did great things. The truth is the greatness was in the time we got to spend with her. Anna and Ashley loved having her with us and Randy spoiled her rotten. I held on to what the doctor said and I truly believed she would get better. She didn’t feel like doing any Christmas shopping so I did all her shopping for her. We had a family Christmas dinner with Mama’s sisters and brother and their families. It was great to have everyone together. Mama didn’t feel well, but I knew she would have good Christmases again; we just had to get there. It would just take time. January came and gave us three snow days free of school. We all just stayed in our pajamas with Mama and relaxed right along with her. It was great. When we would all go off to school, Randy was in and out of the house all day. He would check on Mama and it made her feel so special. She would tell me every afternoon how he checked on her throughout the day. I would text her during the day and she would reply and let me know what she ate for lunch and whether or not her pain was controlled. She was on Percocet, but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. She had tried the morphine and just didn’t like the way it made her feel. I would ask her what her pain was on a scale of one to ten like I had seen them do in the hospital. She never said it was above a six.

One day she texted me at school. She said that she had spilled her coffee on the couch and she said she was stupid for doing that. I texted back and told her it was no big deal and she was amazing. That would be one of the last times Mama was well enough to be in the living room and out of bed. The next couple of days she stayed in her bed. On that Thursday night, I went into her room to watch TV with her. Anna came into the room, too, and we were all laughing over impressions Anna and I would do of Oprah Winfrey. Mama ate a couple of Dole juice bars. She had texted me before I came into the room to ask me to bring her one. She made a joke that she loved the room service. I left her room to go to bed. I kissed her goodnight and told her I loved her. Then my life turned upside down.

The next morning, I heard Mama gasping as I went to open the door to her room to check on her. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped. “I’m hurting so bad.” I asked her what her pain was on a scale of one to ten. She said eleven. I knew I had to call the ambulance. We were all in a panic. She just moaned and asked for water. The paramedics came and gave her oxygen and she seemed to be better. They took her to the hospital and we saw her again in the ER. She seemed fine. She told us they probably wouldn’t keep her. The doctor came in and said she had pneumonia. I was never so happy to hear that word in my life. My biggest fear was that the cancer in her lungs was growing rapidly and had cut off her oxygen.

Mama was moved to a hospital room. She was on oxygen and received breathing treatments. I stayed with her every second I could. I would occasionally go home to get a shower and change clothes. We watched Cupcake Wars and other shows on TV and she was fine. She drank lots of water and she didn’t have enough air to get to the bathroom, so she used a bedpan. I got really good at that. She was so modest, but she seemed fine with me doing that for her. The first news we were told was that Mama would come home on Wednesday with oxygen. Sunday night they moved her to CCU so they could monitor her better. My best friend, Amanda, said that she knew then that things were going downhill, but I was still in incredible denial. My Aunt had come in from Mississippi and she stayed the second night with Mama in CCU. My friend, Jen had come to spend the night with me in the waiting room.

We were all excited on that Monday because Mama’s oncologist would be in town to see her and give her opinion on Mama’s condition. She came into the room and told us that Mama needed a CT scan right away. She said one of two things was going on, either a clot had developed in one of her lungs or, my greatest nightmare, the cancer had grown and was cutting off her oxygen. Could I ever convey how hard I prayed for a blood clot? The doctor told us if it was the cancer, we would head to Memphis on Wednesday to begin fierce chemotherapy.


As we prepared to go to Memphis, I still had my game face on. I comforted Mama and told her this was just a step but maybe it was a good one. Maybe aggressive chemo at this stage would give her a head start on healing. Mama did not want to go to Memphis, nor did she want chemo. She would end up not having to deal with either one. The hospitalist came in Tuesday and told us that we would not be going to Memphis. She said the oncologist had read the scan results and the cancer had progressed far more than she feared. She was sorry, but Mama would not be going home. She said she might make it two weeks in her condition.

Mama was out of it at the time. I don’t remember if I talked to her on the phone or if I dreamed it, but I’m pretty sure Amanda told me to go to the chapel. I was in the chapel and the doctor found me. She asked me if I wanted her to tell Mama or if I wanted to tell her. I wanted to do that less than anything else I had ever had to do but I told her I would. The doctor and another nurse sat there with me in the chapel and cried. What was left to say? Mama would be sent upstairs and hospice would take over. I don’t think any of it had a chance to register.

My greatest concern at that moment was Jamie. We hadn’t told him Mama was sick. Mama had not wanted him to worry and he would have.  Now I needed to tell him and let him see her one last time. I went in to tell Mama.  She asked me what the scan results said. She was still very much “with it” although she was out quite a bit from the medicine. I said, “You don’t have to go to Memphis.” She stared right at me.

“How long?” she asked. We both knew what her question was.

“Two weeks,” I told her. She looked away.

“What do you think about it?” was all I could say.

“All I need is my family. I just need my family,” she said softly. I asked her if she wanted me to go get Jamie. She nodded her head. I asked her again just to be sure. She nodded again.

I had to call my Daddy to tell him. It was very hard. I repeated what the doctor told me and he wanted to know if Mama knew yet. The sorrow in his voice could not be measured on a human scale.  I told him she knew and he was on his way. I called the woman who runs the house where Jamie lived. She was devastated as well. She said she would be going to get Jamie ready for me to come. My friend Jen went with me and Amanda, who had been at work, met us there. How would I tell him? How would he react? This was to be one of the longest rides of my life.

When we got to Jamie’s house, he was excited. “Shannon, are we going to the Goodwill?” he anxiously asked. This was a routine with us, so he never dreamed we would be doing anything else. I swallowed hard. I told him to sit down because I had something important to tell him. He sat down and I began to tell him that Mama was very sick and I was bringing him to see her because God would be taking her to heaven soon.”

“Shannon,” he started, “will you take her place?” I tried to fight back the tears. I assured him I would. Then he wanted to go to the Goodwill. He said he did not want to go see Mama because he didn’t want to see her sick. The trip to Union City became a pleading of Jen, Amanda and me for Jamie to go to the hospital. He said he wasn’t going to the hospital and he didn’t want to talk about it. Amanda had said she wanted to buy him whatever he wanted from the Goodwill, so we went to the store. I called my uncle at the hospital and asked him to meet us there. My uncle arrived and I told him I thought he might be able to convince Jamie so he told me he would try. As Jamie browsed, we continued to ask him to go the hospital. He remained firm. After he had two baskets of goodies, Amanda had gone to pay for his things. Jamie and I were standing near the door. I looked at him and said, “Jamie, I don’t ask you for anything, but I am asking, no, begging, you right now to please go see Mama.”

He grinned really big. “Alright, Shannon, I’ll go.” My heart almost leaped out of my chest. We headed to the hospital. Mama was out of it at the time because of the medication, but Jamie got to see her. He didn’t want to get close, but I was able to tell her later that her baby boy had been to see her. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t gone, but God helped me in that situation; there is no doubt. Jen and Amanda took Jamie home. I had already been gone much longer from Mama than I wanted to be, so I was thankful they took him home for me. Later that day, Mama was moved to the third floor. My family is very close. My cousins, Jerry and Greta, had been at the hospital every day. My Uncle Junior and Aunt Jean were always there, and Aunt Rita was on standby. As the time neared, everyone was there. It seems like it was all one long day at the hospital. The night before she died, I crawled up into bed with Mama and she wrapped her arms around me. It would be the last hug I would get from her and I remember wishing time would stand still.

She woke up at one point, and she pointed to everyone and named all of us. She got to my crazy cousin Jerry and just made a face and shook her head. We all laughed because Jerry got that reaction from us a lot. That would be the last time she was coherent and smiling. She looked at Amanda and said she was my clone. We all laughed. My friend Jen was also in the room and she asked who she was. I explained that this was Jen. Mama said she saw her long hair and thought she was someone else.

As time passed, we increased Mama’s medication to keep her out of the increasing pain. We stayed a step ahead of it and she rested comfortably. The next day, the hospice people came in and explained what was ahead. There was no timetable, but they let us know what to expect as far as the physical changes that were to come. That night, everyone went home and it was just Amanda and I at the hospital. She said she would stay up with Mama and wanted me to get some rest. I don’t remember falling asleep but I had been asleep about an hour and a half when Amanda called my name.

I jumped up. Mama had quit breathing. I hugged Amanda and thanked her for being there. I thought Mama was gone.  At that moment, my biggest concern had been that Mama would leave this world peacefully. I thought she had done that, but she suddenly breathed again. Amanda began calling my family members to come back to the hospital. Everyone got there as fast as they could. She called my Aunt Rita and she had not shown up right away. We were to learn later that she had taken an Ambien and didn’t remember being called. She finally woke up enough to look at her caller ID, and then she was on her way. Mama was holding on. Daddy held one of her hands and I held the other. My thought was that she was in a dreamlike state, and I wanted those to be good dreams. I got right by her ear and started humming “I Fall to Pieces” and “Patches”. I whispered to her that I would be okay and I would look after Jamie. I told my husband to tell her that he was going to take good care of me and she needn’t worry. Daddy also told her how much he loved her and that it was okay to let go. I also whispered the Psalm that had a whole new meaning to me, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil…” I prayed with my whole heart that she would go peacefully to heaven.

Even while I was doing this, in this incredibly sad scene, I didn’t believe I was a part of it. I didn’t know who that girl was who was being so brave, but I didn’t feel like it was me because even as it was happening, I didn’t believe I had the strength. Again, God gave me the strength. It was like Mama’s heart was beating, and then it wasn’t. That was it. She slipped away gently from the grasp of life.  It was the most peaceful thing I’ve ever seen. It was actually a beautiful but heart wrenching moment. I hugged my Daddy. I was thankful for all my family members that were there. There are no words I can say for Amanda and our friendship. When one of us tries to thank the other for something, we have a saying, “That’s just what we do.” I always knew she was a part of my family. The rest of my family adopted her that night.

There was no money to bury Mama and no insurance. I can’t tell you how all of it came together because I really don’t know. My entire family, down to third and fourth cousins, gave generously what they could. There were also contributions of friends of the family. It was touching and humbling how so many people were moved to contribute to laying Mama down to rest just as she had lived, with class and dignity. I called Jamie and told him Mama was gone and he said he wouldn’t come to the funeral. I told him that was fine. I knew Mama wouldn’t want him to be there if he didn’t want to come. We had a plot in our family that was beside Mama’s stepfather. Coincidentally, she had recently spoke of how much she thought of him and how he had been so good to her.

She had told me before that she didn’t care where she was buried; she told me to just do what was easiest for me. I never worried that putting her there was the wrong choice. I knew we could make it work. It was an answered prayer. The day of the funeral is a blur. It was so hard to comprehend what was going on. My mind knew Mama was gone, but my heart was still at that hospital hoping to take her home. So much had happened so fast. I will never forget that support and encouragement from my family, my neighbors, my church family, my work family, and the friends of my sweet mama. They helped, but I was still struggling at the funeral.

Daddy leaned over her casket and looked a hundred years old. Both my parents were fifty-eight. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was having such a hard time. One of Daddy and Mama’s oldest friends (also a cousin), Clyde, told me Daddy wanted him to sit up front with him at the funeral. I told him that was fine with me.

As I was speaking to one of my students and her mother before the funeral, I saw him. Jamie walked in that room and I had a hallelujah moment. It’s the only way to describe it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see anyone in my life. I was later told there was not a dry eye in the place as everyone watched me become so ecstatic to see him. I had resigned myself to the fact that he would not be there. I hugged him so tightly. Daddy was also glad to see him, but, more importantly, Jamie was so glad to see Daddy. And I knew even as I watched Jamie look at Daddy that it would be hard for Jamie to have lost Mama, but I knew that at least he had Daddy and Daddy was his hero.

The next thing I knew, the music was starting. Daddy and I sat down. I was between Randy and Jamie. Daddy was on the other side of Jamie, but there was nobody there for Daddy. Where was Clyde? After the first song was sung and the first speaker got up to speak, I motioned for him to wait a second. I stood up and asked where Clyde was. He was a few rows behind. I told him I wanted him to come up and sit with my Daddy and the whole place was eerily silent.  He quickly came to take his seat by Daddy. There was not a more perfect person to sit by Daddy. He and Clyde had shared many good and bad times together over the years. I would learn later that they talked about the fact that I stopped the funeral all the way home. Daddy was very thankful.

The funeral started and then it was over. That is all I can say about it. Two things stick out in my mind: at the gravesite, it was the most bitter cold I had felt with the wind blowing right through us all,  and Daddy stoppped on the way to the graveyard to get Jamie a Pepsi. It seemed to surprise some people, the fact that he would stop his car on the way to the funeral. I wasn't surprised at all. Jamie had told Daddy he was thirsty. Daddy stopped to get him something to drink. The end.

The next day I took Daddy some of the food that was so generously given. I encouraged him to eat and take care of himself. He promised he would.The next week was hard. It was so hard. The kids were out for snow days all week, so I wasn’t alone. I’m glad because I needed their presence, their support, their love. I knew I had to go to Mama’s to clean out her apartment. To say I dreaded it is an understatement. I didn’t know if Daddy would be clear headed or not so I had no idea how it was going to go.

Because of the snow, I didn’t make it until Friday. I pulled up to the apartment complex as Daddy was leaving. He was taking another resident to the store. He said he was going to get something to eat at Sonic while he was out. I asked him to get me a Coke. Daddy told me he would be right back and he was true to his word. I had started the process of packing things up and he was surprised when he came back at how much I had already gotten done. I laughed and told him it was my former production work that helped me work at a fast pace.  We laughed.

I sat down while Daddy tried to eat his burger. He managed to get half of it down and I knew at the time he was doing that for my benefit, but he threw the other half away. He told me he couldn’t eat. I told him I couldn’t either. We talked about so much. We talked about Mama. He told me that I would never know how often Mama and he had sat around and talked about how very proud they were of me and my girls. I cried and told Daddy it hurt so badly that Mama would not see Anna, my seventeen year old daughter, graduate. He cried too. He said, “Baby, you know she would have been there if she could. I promise I will be there.” I told him I would need him. We talked about Jamie. We talked about how I would bring Jamie to see him. We laughed about different things.

I cannot explain the clear, intense conversations we had. I had dreaded going through Mama’s things, but being with Daddy the way he was made it almost a pleasurable experience. There was still snow on the ground, so we took the trash out together. We gave so many of her things to other residents, and that made Daddy so happy. He said that’s exactly what she would want. We continued to work all day.

I told him that this had been a terribly sad thing to do, but we did it together and that is how we would get through what was to come, by sticking together. He agreed. We hugged and cried some more. As we finished up, we still found some other things to laugh about. It was just such an incredibly special day.

I told Daddy that I knew he had lots of regrets about the past, but I told him my theory. Sometimes the biggest success we can have is to be better parents and people than the generation before us. I reminded him that I knew of the horrible beatings he received, but that he had broken the cycle and that made him tremendously successful to me. At that moment, I was reminded of the strong father-daughter bond we had always shared. I knew at that moment that I didn’t know when I would get another time like this with my Daddy, so I cherished every second. Daddy asked me if I thought there were any more plots where Mama was buried. I told him I would look into it.

I was so very proud of Daddy. He was trying his best to hold things together and he was trying to make plans for the future. He had been unable to figure out the cell phone that I had given to Mama and he asked me to come to his apartment to show him how to work it. That was the last thing we did that day. I had loaded my van with Mama’s things I wanted to keep. We had given many things away. Daddy had brought a few things of Mama’s things to his apartment. One thing he had wanted was a certain picture of Mama and him.

I showed him how to work the phone. I put myself in as the first contact so he would be able to get me quickly. He told me he would call me at least every other day and to call him if I hadn’t heard from him. I showed him how to charge the phone. When I was getting ready to leave, I told him I loved him. “Daddy,” I said, “Don’t be mad at me; I’m not trying to sound like your parent, but you need to promise me you’ll eat.”

“Shannon, listen. Daddy would never, never be mad at you. You know that, don’t you?” He asked. He had alway spoken in the third person about himself to Jamie and me.  I nodded. “I’m going with Stanley in a little while to eat at the lake. We’re going to eat rolls and country ham. Stanley likes them,” and after a second, he added, “Well, I do, too.” I smiled. Then he said, “And I’m not trying to sound like your…well, I am your parent. Be careful driving. Don’t end up in a ditch or hitting a pole. Drive slow on the roads.” I was laughing about him saying that about being my parent. “One more thing,” he said, “don’t be texting and driving.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “I don’t do that, Daddy.” We hugged and I saw him go to his recliner and light a cigarette. “I love you, Daddy,” I told him.“I love you too and don’t worry about me. I’m going to take care of myself.”

“I know you will,” I assured him. As I walked out of the apartment and down that corridor, I felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t like I was leaving the last place my Mama lived for good. I would still come to see Daddy and still feel her presence.

I had to rush to get home quickly to take Ashley and her friends to eat for her birthday. If it hadn’t been for that standing appointment (that had been made at the last minute, per Ash), I don’t think I would have left Daddy’s place so early. I truly didn’t want that time to end. But I rushed home and didn’t even change my clothes. I put on my makeup and picked up the girls and we went to Los Portales. We had ordered our food and were waiting for it to arrive when the phone rang.

It was a resident from the apartments where Daddy lived. “Your Daddy has had a heart attack, Shannon, and it’s not good. The ambulance just left with him and they are headed to the hospital in Dyersburg."

It had been exactly eight days since Mama died. Eight days! My first thought was that I needed to get to him quickly, but I knew with everything that he would be alright. I called Amanda and she came straight to the restaurant. Her husband stayed with the girls and we headed to the hospital almost forty-five minutes away.

My daughter, Anna, had been at the movies and came to go with us. This ride would be the longest ride ever. Amanda drove. Anna was in the passenger seat, and I was in the backseat. My phone rang. It was Delilah, the manager of the apartments, and she told me she was headed to the hospital because she could get there faster than any of us. She told me she would go ahead and go.

She called back a few minutes later and told me that she had told the staff she was a sister. They had put her in a small room and told her to wait on the doctor. She told me she thought he was gone. I don’t know what kind of sound I let out, but I began calling out to God. I wasn’t mad; I was praying, “God, please don’t take my Daddy. You wouldn’t take my Daddy, too. You wouldn’t.” Anna’s face was down and she was as close to the door as she could be without being on the outside of the vehicle. Amanda drove as fast as she dared and I just sobbed and prayed.

When we got to the hospital my Uncle Roger met us in the emergency room. “He’s gone,” he told me. There are no words to express the sorrow welling in my soul. How did this happen? How could this happen? My mind was whirling with questions, but there would be no answers.

Getting the details it seemed that Daddy had gone to Stanley’s just as he said he was going to.  He had sat down. They were talking and Daddy said he was hurting, and he fell out of his chair. He was gone. They never got him back. My family came trickling into the little room, an aunt, a cousin, another aunt, another cousin, and so on. The little room was soon full of family and heavy with grief and sorrow.  How could this be happening?

 It was a little while before I got to see my Daddy. He was wearing the same clothes he had on just a couple of hours before. His hair was a little out of place. I fixed it. I held his hand and kissed his cheek. He was still warm. I think I was in shock. Neither my brain nor my heart could process this. How in the world would I tell Jamie?

My uncles told me not to even worry about the funeral; they would take care of it. They were so kind and compassionate to me. I know they were all going through a world of hurt, but they all comforted me. I know Randy was so worried about me and my state of mind. He was as shocked as I was. I knew this night that I had changed forever; that there was a part of me that would just never be the same. I didn’t want to lose Mama, and I didn’t want to lose Daddy, but I surely never dreamed I would have to give them both up at the same time in such different ways.

The guy from the funeral home came to get Daddy. My uncles planned to go with me the next day to tell Jamie. We finally went home and Jen went home with us. We talked for awhile and then we all went to bed. At three in the morning, I got up to get my Daddy’s pictures together for the slideshow at the funeral home. I knew I just couldn’t go to make more arrangements and my uncles said they would handle it. I wrote down a few things I wanted done.

Amanda and I went to Daddy’s apartment to get his things for the funeral. I saw where he had set the few things around he had gotten from Mama’s apartment the day before. The picture I had brought him of the two of them was lying in the center of his pillow, face up. I can’t say I broke down exactly because that insinuates that I was holding up and I wasn’t.

Amanda and I met my uncles at three o’clock to go tell Jamie what had happened. They had bittersweet news for me, their was a plot right beside Mama in the cemetery.  That really did comfort me, but we still had the daunting task of telling Jamie, so I wasn't comforted long. I cannot express the anxiety I felt. I was hurting so much; how could I tell him? We pulled up and Jamie came out on the porch. Uncle Roger got out of the van. Uncle Jackie got out of the van. I got out of the van and Amanda followed.

 “Where’s my Daddy?” Jamie wanted to know. Nobody said a word.“My Daddy is dead, ain’t he?” he asked. You could have heard a pin drop. I was shocked. How did he know to ask that? I don’t remember much else that was said. I just know that Uncle Roger seemed to really be a comfort to Jamie. Before long, Jamie was laughing about stories Uncle Roger told him. I was so relieved. Jamie had taken it better than I thought. He even told me before we left he would be going to the funeral.

My mind is a blur after that. I had been so wound up about telling Jamie that my mind just sort of collapsed after it was over. We had decided that since Ashley’s birthday was Sunday, we would bury Daddy on that Monday. It also happened to be Valentine’s Day and Randy pointed out that Daddy was reunited with his sweetheart. Amanda and Randy had thrown Ashley a birthday party and I am so very thankful for that.

 I always knew that I would speak at Daddy’s funeral. I had to set the record straight. I had to implore those who loved him to remember the real Hank and not what the addiction had done to him. I wanted to tell the good things I would remember about him. I was only able to stand up there because God gave me the strength and I was medicated. My Daddy's family paid for his funeral.  Aunts, uncles, and cousins all gave to help.  I don't know what I would have done if I had to worry about that, too.

Now it’s almost five weeks later. Grief is such a process. Mine has been fragmented greatly. I liken it to a broken mirror on the floor. Sometimes I pick up a little piece and it cuts a little; sometimes I pick up a bigger piece and it cuts a lot. But it’s all mixed up. I will think of Mama and be in tears. I will think of Daddy and be in tears. This has been the most difficult thing I have done. Jamie has had bad days. His staff members tell me there are days he will just cry, but he never cries around me. He does better on bright, sunny days, but who doesn’t? I would give anything to take his pain away, but I can’t. I would do anything to help him understand, but I can’t understand it myself.

One Saturday I had called to check on him and the staff member on duty said he had literally broken every single thing in his room. Then he cried and told them his sister was going to be mad at him. I went right to him. I told him I was not mad at him and there had been times the past few days when I had wanted to break everything to. I remembered some of Daddy’s last words and reassured him that I would never, never be mad at him. I cried, but Jamie didn’t.

I am doing much better. I know both my parents would want me to continue to do the best I can, take good care of my girls and Randy, look after Jamie, and live the best life God has for me. I truly know that. Throughout everything, I have seen so many examples of what God meant for his people. Love your neighbor. Treat others as you would have them treat you. Turn the other cheek. The generosity and love from so many people has carried me through this dark time.

I feel so differently about family now. I feel closer to my family members than ever before, and I realize that I have family like Amanda and Jen that do not share my DNA. They are still family. What has happened has been so tragically unique. I think I will look back on this ten years from now and still ask myself what happened. So far, I haven’t asked God why. I haven’t been mad at him. I hope I don’t get that way and get bitter. I can’t take the blessings he has so richly bestowed upon my family and me during the darkest time of our lives and then turn on Him. There are a million ways this situation could have been worse. My biggest thought is about where I go from here because I’m not the same person I was five weeks ago. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I will be stronger and more compassionate. I definitely learned what it means to be there for someone and I learned that we all have different gifts.

Jamie comes every other Friday night. We go to the Goodwill. He talks about Daddy and Mama all the time. It’s starting to get more matter-of-fact than wistful. I guess when things like this happen, you always have regrets. I know there were times I said too much and times I should have said more. There are many things I wish I could take back, and also I know there were so many things I would do over. Oh, I miss them both so much. But they made me who I am. Every single cell within my body has their mark on it. My heart is forever etched with their words and their wisdom. Neither of my parents was perfect. Nobody is. But they did a great job at what parents are supposed to do. They loved me unconditionally. They instilled in me a sense of family and love. They supported every single thing I ever did. They cheered me on. They corrected me when I was wrong. I never doubted their love. The thing that would have made both of them so happy is the way my family and friends have gathered around us and gotten us through. I don't know what I would have done without Jen and Amanda. There are no words for the bond we all have.