I have never written or talked much about my Mama, but today I honor her memory with this story. This is my memory and opinion. Older siblings have more memory than I, younger siblings have a more dim memory, but we all shared Mama. She was gone too soon.
Mama was gone less than one month after her 49th birthday. Born in 1910 to a share cropper family, she lived close to the edge of owning nothing until she married my Daddy. Mama had survived a bout with rheumatic fever at age 6 that left her with a weakened and scarred heart. She suffered rhumatism all the years I knew her. Some times the pain was so crippling she had to be carried in Daddy's arms to get treatments from the doctors. I remember her making biscuits in the big old wooden bowl while sitting on the side of her bed because she simply couldn't stand to walk on her feet and legs. Daddy would take the pan of biscuits to the oven to cook as he finished off a meal for us to eat. It was the most sever bout that I can remember. This was before I started school in the fall or 1947.
Mama birthed 9 children in rapid succession. It didn't help her health. The amazing thing was the fact that I honestly cannot remember Mama ever complaining about her situation. Her children were her most important thought. She was just Mama.
If our family had Daddy as the captain of the ship, then I suppose Mama was the scullery maid. I don't believe she ever bucked that system or thought she deserved better. It was what it was.
I had a childhood friend once tell me that he would always remember seeing Mama helping my brother get ready to go out with his friends when he was a teenager. This friend said, "Your Mama had dead aim focus on making sure Humpy or Rayford was pressed and creased. She acted as though they were the only kid she had at that moment". I'll always be grateful for him telling me that because I remember her being just like how he described her. She was probably already tired from her daily grind, but her children needed her that way and she did what she thought she was supposed to do to make us happy.
I had graduated high school in May 1959 and found my 4th job by August. I clearly remember seeing Mama standing in the door as I came home from work on the 4th day of a job I detested. Mama knew I wanted to get hired at Chemstrand so as to make more money. She was holding an envelope in her hand smiling and said, " I think you may be happy with what this says". I was.
I was working shifts and since my baby sister had started school that fall I got to spend some days off or morning hours with just the two of us talking and sharing my hopes and dreams with Mama. She was as happy for me as anyone has ever been. I think she was living her own imaginary life through my hopes and wishes and plans.
Mama had been in frail health for the last few months and with congestive heart failure, she looked sick, yellow, swollen and depressed. She had been in the hospital just a week or so earlier. She was in bed the morning of November 3rd, 1959 as I was leaving for work at around 4:30. I stopped by her bedroom to say goodby when she ask if I would bring her an orange to suck on. She cautioned me to be careful and she would see me in the evening.
I got home that afternoon at about 5:00 p.m. I was in the kitchen talking/questioning my younger sisters as to where Mama was. They told me she had been taken to the hospital because she was having trouble breathing.
I heard voices out front. I walked to check who and saw two of Daddy's sisters standing talking and crying. They seemed to be on a mission.
I KNEW.
Mama was dead.
Time stopped. I cannot remember but one thing I did that dark, sad, sobbing, choking afternoon but go to the old store at the Barnett Crossroads to buy a loaf of bread and tell Mrs. Annie Barnett , the store owner, that Mama was gone. I knew the community would be told as we didn't have phone service in our community at that time and this was our way of getting information out to others.
The house filled with people in shock. The table and stove was filled with food from everywhere. Daddy looked like a holocaust survivor. My little sisters were curled into balls under the bedcovers.
My older sister had been with Daddy at the hospital when Mama died. She was the one that had the job of making decisions. Daddy's sisters helped in getting things arrainged.
The rest of those days are blank for me until the evening back at the house after Mama's funeral. I walked passed Mama and Daddy's bedroom to glance in to see Daddy standing with his head on the fireplace mantle sobbing. I didn't go to him as I felt this was a sacred moment for him. I may have made a mistake. I was too afraid to do anything so I did nothing.
Everyone had gone, the food was put away, the house was filled with eight kids and Daddy. Rayford was home on leave from the Army. Humpy was married and lived away. We were cold, sad and exhausted. We all went to bed before dark. I can't remember much about the days, weeks and months following Mama's death. But one thing I will always regret and it is so sad for me to remember. I didn't know how to respond when a neighbor, coworker or anyone expressed condolences to me about Mama. I smiled, dammit I smiled.
Who does that?
When I created my own famly, I also corrected my way of saying things that need to be shared so my own children know how I really feel. I sat an example of how to share the most important words ever spoken. I never fail to say,
" I LOVE YOU".
