1996
I felt uneasy at the thought of leaving. Mama was still in the hospital. Daddy didn’t know how to handle things like this. I didn’t either, but I could usually figure things out. I may have been 25, but I was strong-willed and very outspoken. Especially when it came to Mama.
“Mama, I’ll just leave on Tuesday when you’re released. I’ll feel better knowing you’re home and settled.” “No. You have to start school on Wednesday. You’re going to drive all day on Monday and then have to go buy your books Tuesday. Then you’re starting classes. You need some breathing room in there.” “But Mama, I don’t have to have my books for the first day of class. We’re just going over the basics and probably getting out early.”
My arguments didn’t satisfy her. So, I was leaving Monday morning. I told Daddy I didn’t feel good about it and made him promise to take care of everything. He promised he would. I was so used to being the caregiver that I just didn’t want to let go.
I left bright and early Monday morning. I had a long drive ahead of me. Seven and a half hours alone. Thank God I loved singing in the car and didn’t mind road trips. I loaded up with soda and candy before hitting the interstate. I needed to stay awake. The drive from Huntsville, Alabama to Champaign, Illinois was going to require sugar.
I was exhausted when I arrived at my apartment. I left everything in the car. I was going to ask my husband to help me unpack when he got home. I just wanted to nap. But before I could take a nap, I had three calls to make. The first was to Mama. Southerners always let someone know when they arrive somewhere. I called the hospital and couldn’t reach her. I tried the nurse’s desk and they said she would be back in her room shortly. It was a small hospital, so they knew who I was. I asked them to please let her know I had made it safely. The next call was to Daddy. I let him know I was safe and sound. Daddy wasn’t much for the phone, so it was a two-minute conversation. The last call was to my husband. I called him at work and let him know I was home and was going to take a nap.
I awoke to my husband kissing my forehead. A lazy smile came across my face. It was nice to be missed. He was excited to see me. I had been gone a month. “Let’s celebrate you being home finally! Where do you want to eat?” “Pizza! But first, let me call Mama. I couldn’t reach her earlier and I really want to talk to her.” He understood my concern. “Call her and then we’ll go.”
I dialed the hospital and was told that Mama was napping. I knew they were about to have dinner soon. Mama was diabetic, so she would need to eat. I asked them to go ahead and wake her up because I knew she would want that. Someone placed the receiver on the counter and in the next few seconds hell broke loose. I heard yelling and people scrambling. Someone remembered the phone. “Amy, call back in 5 minutes.” The line went dead.
I started pacing and shaking. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t wait any longer. I called back. “What the hell is going on?” “Amy, we need you to come down here.” “I can’t. I came home to Illinois today. What’s wrong?” “Is someone there with you?” My heart was racing, and I knew it was horrible. My mind was spinning. “My husband is here.” “Let us talk to him.”
For what seemed like days, Chris held the phone to his ear. I watched the color drain from his already pale face. I kept asking quietly, “What’s wrong?” He wasn’t answering me. He was just stunned and listening. Finally, I screamed, “What’s wrong? Is she dead?” He looked at me as if I had slapped him and nodded. He hung up with the hospital because I let out a primal scream and then ran to the bathroom. I couldn’t stop throwing up. I wanted to die. A piece of me had already died. I never knew you could hurt so badly that everything could go numb.
It had only been minutes, but it felt like hours. I suddenly snapped out of my breakdown and did what most Southern women do. I started to pull my shit together for the moment. I asked Chris if the hospital had called Daddy. He didn’t know. I called the hospital and asked. Yes, they had and that he was on his way. He didn’t know what exactly was going on just yet. I railed at them for doing that. I told them he couldn’t handle that alone and I wasn’t there to be with him.
Next, I had to call my cousin, Patsy. Even though I was back up and running as to what to do, my braining wasn’t firing properly. I could remember all the numbers of her phone number, but not in the correct sequence. We dialed over and over until we hit the right combination. I told her to sit down and I needed her help more now than anything.
Once I knew she was sitting, I told her what happened. I told her I could only assume Mama had a heart attack. But my biggest issue now was that Daddy was on the way to the hospital right then to get that news all by himself. Our family knew Daddy was not able to cope with that. Mama was his rock. Actually, Mama was everyone’s rock. Patsy told me that she would get someone to the hospital as quickly as possible. I told her we were taking care of things and then hitting the road.
The next call was the harder one. I didn’t know who to call out of Mama’s family. Mama was number 7 out of 10 children. Two had already passed and now this. I couldn’t call my grandmother. She couldn’t find this out alone. She had just lost a daughter one month before to the day. She was already heartbroken. I couldn’t let her know this news while she was alone. While I knew I needed to make a call, I just wasn’t sure to whom. I knew I needed to decide because I needed to get on the road.
I asked my husband. He was at a loss as well. We finally decided on my aunt who lived the furthest away in Charleston, SC. She would know who to tell in Birmingham and how to get them gathered. I hated to pass the buck, but I had to do something. I called and asked my uncle if my aunt was there. He said yes and was about to hand the phone to her. I told him not to. I needed to talk to him. He was surprised that I wanted to talk to him rather than her. I knew my aunt was going to be blown away. Everyone was. Mama was only 49. Of course, we were all stunned. “Mac, I need you to be as calm as you can, and I am going to tell you something horrible.” I paused so he would understand I was serious. “OK.” “I just found out Mama died. I think she had a heart attack. I don’t have more info. I didn’t know who to tell on Mama’s side and I just don’t know what to do.”
I started crying again. He told me he would get aunt and we’d tell her together. She got on the phone and I told her what I knew. I told her I hated to pass it to her, but I just didn’t know what to do. And I trusted her to get the information to the right people in Birmingham. I just needed to get home and couldn’t make individual calls. She understood and told me she would handle it.
I called my best friend next. She loved my mother almost as much as her own. She was devastated as well. She had told me to not worry about anything except getting home.
Chris called his parents. He wanted to let them know what was going on and that we were heading home. I don’t know that they really cared that Mama died. They were happy he was coming home, though.
He also called his work to tell them that he was going to be gone for a while. We didn’t know how long it would be.
Chris packed his stuff up between all these calls. I told him that we could just take my car since I hadn’t even unloaded it. He agreed. He finally had everything together and we loaded up.
After gassing up and grabbing soda and snacks for him, we were on the road. The car made a weird noise after about an hour or so and started losing power. Thankfully we were at an exit ramp. We turned off and there was a service station still open with a mechanic on duty. Mind you, this was about 7 pm. It struck me as odd at the time and it is even odder today.
Chris got out and talked to the mechanic. After popping the hood, he determined it was the alternator. It was dead. Great. Just great. I am sitting in the car trying to not freak out. The mechanic told us that it’s not a problem; he has one in stock. Again, I was stunned.
There were three vehicles ahead of mine. But due to the urgency, the mechanic went inside and told them what was going on. They backed all the vehicles up and put mine in line first. God was watching over me that day.
The people in the waiting room were concerned for me. Everyone kept trying to get me to eat. They found out I had only had soda and candy all day. They wanted me to have some sort of nourishment. They eventually talked me into another soda and a cheeseburger from McDonalds. I ate the bread and threw the rest out. I knew a cheeseburger was a bad idea.
Within an hour, we were back on the road. As Chris was driving, he kept making these exaggerated yawns. At first, I ignored them. I had a lot on my mind. I was trying to figure out what all I needed to do when I got back to Alabama. But his yawns persisted more and more loudly. Finally, I looked at him like he had lost his mind. He said to me, “I’m really tired. I worked all day and now I am driving.” That was the absolute wrong thing to say to me at that moment. He could have told me I was ugly or many other terrible things, but to tell me he was tired was just my undoing.
“Pull over.” “What?” I was so angry that I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Pull the fucking car over right now!” He had a fearful look on his face as he obeyed. I was so angry I was shaking. I had reached my limit. “Get out.” “What do you mean ‘get out’?” “I mean get out of the goddamn car right this fucking minute!” He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Maybe I had. I know I had lost my patience.
I got out and walked to the driver’s side and told him through clenched teeth, “Get in the fucking car and I better not hear one more word about your being fucking tired. I have already driven seven and a half fucking hours today by my damn self. My Mama died. And you’re going to tell me you’re fucking tired? Not a fucking word! Sit down and shut the fuck up!”
He scurried around the car quickly and got in. He knew he better or I might leave him on the side of the road. The thought crossed my mind. I typically feel ice-cold when I am anxious but that moment it felt as if my blood was boiling throughout my body.
I don’t remember much about the drive home. I remember being on the side of the road yelling at my husband. I remember looking over at him as I drove, and he slept and wanting to smack him. I remember the building in Nashville that I always called the Bat Tower. Finally, I remember pulling into my parents’ driveway.
Patsy and Melissa were waiting for me. It was almost 3 am. I had driven 14 out of 24 hours. I was exhausted. We held each other and cried. It felt so good to be held by people who loved her so much. I hadn’t cried at all while driving. I couldn’t. I knew if I had started crying that I wouldn’t be able to see the road. Now it didn’t matter. I was home.
They helped me get the essentials out of the car. They could see the animosity between me and my husband. I told them what happened, and they were angry as well. We sent him to bed so we could talk. We talked about who told Mama’s family. I told them what I did and why. I knew it wasn’t ideal, but it was what had to be done.
We were all exhausted. I offered for them to stay the night, but they needed to get home to their families. I felt bad that they stayed so late. Finally, around 4 am I was able to close my eyes. The phone began ringing at 6 am. My head was splitting. I felt like I had a hangover but without any of the fun that usually goes with one. I got up and turned the phone ringers off. I needed some quiet. I just needed another hour of rest.
I woke an hour or so later. The answering machine was full. The messages were not pleasant. Since my mother’s family lived out-of-town, it wasn’t like they could just come over. I decided to deal with them later. First, I needed Daddy. I couldn’t find him. After searching the house, I looked outside. He was sitting out under the willow tree. He had aged 20 years in 2 days. My heart hurt so bad. What do you say to someone who lost the love of their life?
“Daddy?” He was in a daze. “Daddy!” He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. He stood but as he did he almost stumbled. My father was not an affectionate man, but he hugged me tight. “She’s gone.” “I know.” All I could do was cling to Daddy and cry.
I didn’t know what to do. What do you do when someone dies? I was 25. I wasn’t sure what the hell to do. I just knew I needed to get my shit together and start getting it done.
I got Daddy to go back inside. It was already quite warm. Alabama summer mornings can be hot. I asked Daddy and Chris if they were hungry. Nobody wanted a real breakfast. I told them to let me know if they wanted something and I would take care of it.
I needed to call Mama’s family—my family. I just didn’t know who to call first. I turned the ringer on the phone back on. I didn’t have to worry about who to call because they were calling me. Boy, did I get an earful! How dare I turn the ringer off! I listened quietly at first and finally just said, “I didn’t get home until 3 in the morning. I didn’t need to talk on the phone at 6.” After the bitching continued, I made someone angry—I forget who—when I said, “You know, Mama was dead at 6 and she’s still dead at 8. So, I think we’re ok.” I did not score any points for congeniality for that. That’s when I realized maybe my next call should be to the family doctor.
I called our family doctor. To be such a sizable city, Huntsville can feel quite small. I called and told the receptionist who I was. “Hey, Amy! How are you, hon?” “Well, I’m not so great. Something bad happened and I didn’t know what to do so I am calling.” “What’s wrong, honey?” “Mama died.” I heard her sharp inhale. She was shocked. “What happened, Amy?” “She was in the hospital under her other doctor and she died. I think she had a heart attack. I thought y’all should know, but I didn’t know. Did I do the right thing?” “Yes, honey. I am so sorry. I’m going to have the doctor call you right back.”
Within minutes the phone was ringing. The doctor was so nice. He was all our doctor. I told him all I knew. Since she died at one hospital, she would be moved to another hospital for an autopsy. It was mandatory. He would let me know as soon as the autopsy results were in.
“How’s your Daddy?” he asked. He knew how Daddy handled things. “Not good. I’m worried.” “Yeah. I’m calling you both in something. Take it. Even if you don’t feel like you need it, take it. You’re going to deal with a lot of shit in the next few days, Amy. You’re going to need to be strong and this will help you get through it.”
I called my mother’s oldest sister. She started crying the moment she heard my voice. That set me off again. She told me some people were angry with me. I told her I knew. Then I told her about the events of the previous day. She was understanding and realized I had gone through quite a bit. I apologized for being ugly, but I was exhausted and emotionally drained. I didn’t know what to do next. I was waiting on autopsy results and couldn’t really move forward with much until Mama’s body was released. She told me to grab some paper and helped me make a list. I had a lot of phone calls to make.
I already knew which funeral home to use. But picking a casket? Good Lord! Who knew there were so many? And the price ranges? It was ridiculous. I had to pick flowers. I tried to include Daddy, but he kept talking about the prices of the flowers. Thankfully, the florist was a family friend. She and I went off to the side and made the decision on flowers. I refused mums and I wanted as few carnations as possible. I despise them.
There were so many other things to do but I could tell that Daddy and Chris were only going to slow me down. I took them home and left them there. My fuse was getting shorter and I still had a lot to do.
By the time I got back home from taking care of all the details related to death, the house was filled with casseroles. I had been concerned about how I was going to feed everyone. Death in the South is a time for baking. You can never have too many casseroles according to the nice church people. Yes, you can according to Amy. I didn’t have room in the refrigerator for everything. I was beyond appreciative. That was one less thing I had to deal with. But I did have to clean out the fridge completely to accommodate everything.
My mother’s family descended upon our tiny house. I love them. But that house was just not big enough for that many people. Daddy’s family was trying to be there for him. Mama’s family wanted to be at her house. I wanted to hide. My poor dog was confused by everything. Daddy was a zombie. Chris wanted to watch baseball.
I tried to play hostess with a smile. I just wanted to fall apart. But there wasn’t time for that. I had to keep moving or I might crack under the pressure.
The night of the viewing was unpleasant to say the least. The immediate family had an hour before everyone arrived to go in first. Daddy could barely stand. He was having a breakdown. He didn’t want to go to the viewing. I made him. I should have just listened to him.
Chris and I supported Daddy on both sides and walked in together. We saw her, and Daddy and I lost it. I found out later that Chris had never seen a dead body before. How he managed to live in the South that long without seeing one is beyond me.
Mama’s hair and makeup looked as good as could be expected. I hate when people say dead people look natural. No, they don’t. They’re dead. Her hands bothered me, though. They looked claw-like.
I allowed the rest of the family to come in. They all felt the same way. We figured out the perfect fix. I ran to the car and got Mama’s cigarette case. For some reason, I had it with me. I put it in her hand. It worked. And she was usually carrying it. The family and I decided who was going to do the greeting. We all recognized that there was no way Daddy could. We sat him with Grandma. My cousins alternated standing up there with me.
Visitation started at 7 pm. I thought it might be an hour or so. No. Had I known how big that thing was going to be, I would have gone barefoot or something. They had to open two rooms to accommodate the crowd and the flowers. There were double rows of flowers in the room and then they lined the hallway as well. I had never in my life seen such an exhibition of death.
I was very thankful for the valium. It helped me be nice for the following three hours. I knew that I loved my Mama, but I had no clue that so many others did as well. My feet hurt but I was grateful for everyone who came and told a story or just shed a tear with me. It made my heart swell knowing how loved she was and how much she would be missed.
Leaving the funeral home was hard. I hated leaving her alone in that cold place that smelled of cloying hot-house flower. She should be going home with us. She shouldn’t be lying in a gray box with pink satin lining. She should be going home. She already had, though, the day before. She was no longer with us. I left her body there and felt completely sick as I left. I felt like I was betraying her.
I tried to sleep that night, but it was hard. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the coffin. It was a horrible image. I slid out of bed and sat outside in the cool of the evening with my dog. She was confused by all the chaos and tears. She snuggled up with me and let me hold her under the stars.
The day of the funeral sickening. We all felt nauseous. There was a sense of dread. We knew we had to do it. We arrived at the funeral home early. We allowed the family to have time with her before we began. Once they were done, Daddy, Chris and I walked in. I couldn’t even cry at that moment. Daddy was inconsolable. I looked at Chris and realized he hadn’t cried at all. I asked him why. He said, “I’m not supposed to.” That confused me. “You loved her, didn’t you?” “Of course I did!” “Then it’s ok to cry. There’s no right or wrong.” He looked as if I had just granted permission and he began crying. I held him. “I loved her so much. You know that, don’t you, Amy?” “Yes. She loved you, too.” Finally, we all regained our composure and went to celebrate the end of my mother’s life.
survivingmiddleage 