A Vivid Childhood Memory
and the goodbyes that created me.
This week’s writings took me on a journey through time to places I had forgotten. It got deep and emotional. Sorry there won’t be an audio version of this, as I’m not sure I could read this without my voice quivering.
Warning: Do not read if you’re in a public place and sentimental like me.
Monday AM 10.30.23
Fish Fry
We spent the morning following behind the grownups as they pitched crickets into dark caves and over logs catching red breasts and stump knockers. Us kids jumped off pristine white sand bars and played in the shallows of the clear, cool water behind them. Once we returned to the Maypop Landing, we helped gather sticks and limbs to make a fire.
Grandpa and Granny were sitting in the shallow run of the river scaling and eviscerating the morning's catch. Suddenly, Granny shrieked. Swimming in her lap was a snake. Grandpa jumped up from his task, told her to slowly move away, unholstered his side arm, and the loud crack of the gun echoed through the swamp. Everyone settled back down. Granny was shaken and decided to clean her fish up on the bank. Perhaps this was the first time I realized there could be deadly things in those waters I adored playing in so much. Perhaps I needed to be more fearful of swimming in the river because now I knew the water moccasins not only lay up on the riverbanks and droop from trees, they also swim in the water. I never thought about a snake being able to bite me in the water. I mean, surely it would drown if it opened its mouth to bite. Up until this moment in my young life, I thought I only needed to worry about stepping on them.
Daddy poured the oil into a black cast iron pan and set it on the two red bricks he had placed in the fire. The smell of oak smoke was intoxicating in the air and it curled up into the forest canopy above. He waited for the oil to get hot. Meanwhile, the freshly cleaned fish were salted and placed in a brown Piggly Wiggly sack filled with corn meal. Aunt Donna shook the bag around.
"Is the oil hot yet?" she inquired. Daddy shook his head full of dark curly hair and said, "I don't think it's quite there." He turned to her and asked, "Are you going to make some dodgers too?"
All the family was gathered and working together to make us a fine meal. A meal that we spent the morning catching, then cleaning, and now cooking on the banks of the Ohoopee river. These are the memories my mind easily gives up, it's the drama filled memories it wants to keep locked in. But I will continue on this memory excavation until I get to the root of me.
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Wednesday AM 11.1.23
On Death and Dying
I’m not sure if it’s Samhain, the cold front that is blowing through or being surrounded by it everyday, but this is on my mind heavy this morning. We’re all on this journey, every moment of our lives. We don’t like to think about it, but we are. We never know when or where it will happen, but it WILL happen. We may have a bit of control of how we take the final steps into it, but we may not. I don’t dwell on my own too much, but I do dwell on the lives lost around me and the people it leaves behind. It hurts my heart to see the ones left behind. Even if they smile and giggle through their pain, I feel their deep down loss, it lays heavy on my heart. That’s why I no longer attempt to attend funerals, so much raw emotion packed into one place, is hard for me to recover from.
I’ve seen the dying process for 5 of my family members and one of them, I was there for their final breath. It wasn’t a pleasant experience and it’s not something I like to think about often, however, if this piece of work can help anyone going through this process on either side, I will write it. The deaths I came the closest to were within a 2 year time period from 2005 to 2007. Those years completely changed me, however, the death of my first close family member changed my mind set and the course of my life. It has taken me a long time to recover from these losses and I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. I miss each one of them intensely and the web of love I lived in while they were here.
Aunt Donna (1999)
As she lay dying, she was hooked to tubes and machines at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Savannah. I didn’t want to be there. She wasn’t conscious, but I was told by the kind nurse that if I spoke to her, she would hear me. I held her swollen and bruised hand and thanked her for all that she had been to me and done for me. I didn’t know what else to say. How could this be happening? She is my Daddy’s only sister and my Granny’s only daughter. She has 2 daughters and a son that are my cousins, but we have grown up like siblings, always in each others world. Her youngest daughter had been her caregiver and her son was in the Navy and not currently nearby. Her eldest daughter was building a little family of her own in Jenkins County. Grandpa was upset with all of them, but since I was living in Bulloch County at the time, I didn’t know all the details.
She had been battling cancer for awhile but this coma was sudden. I didn’t even understand how it happened. My mother was coming to meet me here. I’m not sure if she was coming to say her own good byes or if she thought she needed to comfort me. My mind and emotions were all aflutter from this moment and the fact that I would see my estranged mother again. We had tenuously been working on a relationship the past year, since she moved to South Carolina, near Charleston. My mother also went to her bedside and spoke to her like she was awake and could hear. She thanked her for the beautiful clothes she had made for her when she lived with her as a teenager. Wait. What? Why would she have lived with her as a teenager. Totally confused. But I’m also totally heart broken over this entire situation and have zero energy to ask. On the elevator ride down, we try to figure out something we can spend time doing together in Savannah. This may be the first time I’ve spent any one on one time with her. Usually one of my brothers is present or her boyfriend. I’m not sure if it was her idea or mine, but we end up at Bonaventure Cemetery.
Aunt Willie (2004)
As she lay dying, she was composed and quiet except a low moan of pain every now and then. I only visited her once during her journey to the other side. The room was crowded with cousins and I didn’t feel free enough to express everything I wanted to tell her about what she meant to me. To thank her for all she had done to set me on the right path for a life filled with abundance.
Grand Pa (May 2005)
As he lay dying, he was fighting it hard. He didn’t want to go. He clawed at his neck for breath. He seemed to be begging to stay. I tried to talk to him, to soothe his worries about the people and things he was leaving behind. I know he probably worried most about my brother and I promised him I would make sure he was taken care of. My brother had been his caregiver in his final weeks. I don’t think my Daddy visited at all during his final days. This broke my heart for all three of these strong men. When the “death rattle” started, I had to leave. I understood why Daddy couldn’t be there though, he was on his own journey and in just a few short months this would be him.
Daddy (September 2005)
As he lay dying, he held my hand. I talked to him about a fish fry at the ‘Hoopee and told him about all the people who were waiting to greet him there. I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, I wanted this all to end, I wanted to go with him. The dreaded “death rattle” meant his lungs were filling with fluid according to the hospice nurse. My memory wants to say that nurse was a school mate, Natasha Woods, but I’m not sure if that is true. I remember thinking what a difficult job she has and wondered how she dealt with this day in and day out. Hospice nurses are angels. As his lungs continued to fill with fluid, and it became harder for him to breath, the morphine was maxed out. I began talking to him about being in that cool water of the ‘Hoopee, going for a swim, taking a deep breath, and dipping under the water. In that moment, he grabbed my hand tightly, opened his eyes and looked me straight in them, took a deep breath, held it….and was gone.
Granny (2007)
As she lay dying, she talked and pointed to people in the corners of the small room at Community Hospice in Vidalia. I read passages from my Good News Bible to her. I was having an existential crisis of religion since everyone had died and I was feeling abandoned by God. Why was he taking all the pillars of my life? I was only 35 years old. How was I going to navigate this world without their advice, love, and guidance? For some reason, everyone looked to me to handle all the things and figure things out. I may have appeared capable on the outside, but I was falling apart on the inside. Here I was reading from a book that I felt no attachment to, but I grew up with her telling me that I could talk to God, anywhere, anytime and He could hear me. Well maybe He could hear me, but He didn’t seem to care or do anything to help me. He seemed to be taking everyone away from me. Why did He want me to face this cold, cruel world alone? How was I going to survive this final great loss? Who would I become without all of them?
She had not spoken lucidly to me for days. I came home from work every afternoon, and went straight there and usually stayed until 11:00pm, well after visiting hours. Those late night drives in the darkness were scary at times. It seemed there were deer around every curve of Hwy 297.
Tonite, she took my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, “Honey, go home and take care of your little family. Cook them a fine meal.” She patted my hand.
“I’ll be fine. I have plenty of company here,” she said as she waved her outstretched arm around the room from her bedside.
I left early that night. I went home and did as she said. Something told me I needed to go by and check on her before work the following day. Early the next morning, I was the first one into her room. Her mouth was agape, and when I touched her it was obvious her spirit no longer resided in her body. I let the nurses know, and went outside to feel the morning sun on my face and watch the squirrels gathering acorns. Then I started calling my brother and cousins.
Final thoughts…
It’s been an emotionally draining week. I wasn’t sure if I would post these writings. But I felt someone, somewhere may need them today. I’m going to seek some joy in the world for the remainder of this beautiful Sunday. Blessings to you all!