(All the songs included are from the CD we played during the visitation.)
On December 21st, 2012, the day that everyone claimed the Mayans had foretold would be the end of the world....a huge part of my world disappeared unexpectedly. Undeservedly. My mother, Mary Lee Feather Logsdon, died sometime between 2:30 a.m. and 9 a.m. Friday morning. I was the last person to see her alive. I'd heard movement in her room (which is right across from mine), and went in to check on her since she had had foot surgery the week before and was unable to walk properly. She was getting back into her bed after visiting the bathroom, so I helped her in, propped her foot up on the pillows, put the cover over her as best I could and asked if she was okay. She said she was, and after I told her to try and get some sleep, I told her I loved her as I always do before we go to sleep each night, and went back to bed. This was around 2:30 a.m. Thursday night/Friday morning. I remember her smiling at me before I pulled the door to.
The next thing I knew, it was 8:30 a.m. Dad was in my room, waking me up. He said that he was going to call an ambulance because he couldn't get mom to wake up. Now, this in itself wasn't something abnormal believe it or not. Twice before in 2012, once in January and again in March, Mom had had severe cases of pneumonia where her breathing would slow and we weren't able to fully rouse her from sleep/unconsciousness. Each time, first dad then myself, we got her to the hospital in time. In both cases, the treating doctors had told us that if we hadn't gotten her there, she would have died. So when dad told me this on December 21st, I assumed this would be another case as before.
I wish it had been. His next words made me literally launch myself out of my bed. "And her lips are blue." Five footsteps got me from my room into hers where I saw her. It is an image that comes to mind almost every day. It will stay with me until the day I die. Mom was laying on the floor, eyes slightly open, lips parted slightly. She was on her back. Dad said that when he had woken up and checked on her, she had been laying on the floor on her side, her back towards the door, head near the night stand. Since this wasn't uncommon to find her on the floor, dad went over to put a pillow under her head. When he noticed she wasn't moving, he rolled her on her back to try and shake her awake. That's when he came and woke me up.
I had been sick for the past three days and been at home, so Thursday I had taken mom to her appointment with the foot doctor. Her foot surgery the previous week had been to make her foot and toes straight (she had had several previous surgeries, none of which had really worked the way they should have), but the pins in her toes had started to come loose and she felt a pain in them. When the doctor Thursday unwrapped her foot to examine it, I was amazed. I had never seen mom with her foot looking as good as it did. It was straight. It looked normal. The only thing was that one of the toes with a pin in it was purplish. The doctor (who wasn't her regular one, he was out due to his wife having surgery) looked at it and called her regular doc. They consulted and prescribed a strong medication to get rid of the infection, then gave me instructions as to what to buy, how to re-wrap the bandage, and how often to soak the foot. I took the instructions down in the Note app on my iPhone. I still have them in there. Went to Walgreens, got the prescription as well as a ton of stuff for her foot. There's a reason why I'm the nurse for both my parents. It isn't..wasn't a job or a chore. I saw it...see it as saying thank you for everything they have ever done for me. The many times I fell and scraped my knee, mom was there to bandage it up with a kiss. The times I was sick and wanted something from out, either mom or dad if he was there would go out and get it for me. When I had my wisdom teeth pulled out (and it wound up that the doctor DIDN'T extract them, but that's neither here nor there), I couldn't eat hardly anything...except spaghetti sauce. Mom fixed one batch, then a second when the first ran out, until I was able to eat solid foods again. And we're talking not pre-made stuff you get from the grocery, but frying ground round meat, peppers, onions then mixing it with tomatoes, spices..the works. Home made. Momma did that for me.
So in later years, starting around 2004-2005, I never considered it a chore or a pain to do for mom what she needed. I considered it...an obligation, but not one that was a burden. I wanted to show her the same love and care that she had always shown me. I kept a medication list, surgery list, doctor list and medical diagnosis list updated and brought to every doctor appointment. I called in prescriptions when it came time and kept track of them. Whenever she couldn't take herself to an appointment, dad or I would take her. I balanced the checkbook and made out the bills at times. There was nothing I wouldn't do for momma.
When I saw her on the floor, my gut reaction was that I knew. I knew she was dead. But as soon as I thought that, I fought against it. She couldn't be. I'd just talked to her a few hours ago, told her I loved her, and wished her good night. Now she had somehow gotten onto the floor and she wasn't moving? No. I refused. I knelt down beside her and just looked at her for a moment. Her stomach wasn't going up and down. Her lips were blue. My hand went to her chest, I think and felt for a heart beat. That strong heart that only 2-3 months ago had been checked by her cardiologist, Dr. Rebecca McFarland, and pronounced as healthy...I couldn't feel that strong heart. I think I told dad to yes, call 911, I couldn't feel a heart beat. He got on the phone as I took hold of her wrist, searching for a pulse. All the time, I knew...I knew, but I couldn't say it. I couldn't. I don't know if dad had realized she was gone when he came in, if he knew it now, but as he talked to the operator, I put my head down to her chest. She was already a bit cold. There was no movement, no beat. I fought hysteria as I said she wasn't breathing. He relayed this to the operator, who directed him to start CPR. I'd made an attempt to start it but he took over and I can still hear him going, "One, two, one, two, one, two" as I left the room. I ran to the front door that we seldom use and undid the locks, throwing it open so that I could look out the screen door. For a few moments I remember fighting panic, praying, begging, refusing to accept what my first reaction had been. She couldn't be gone. She wasn't. The EMS would get here, and they would bring in the shock paddles like I'd seen on television so many times. They would resuscitate her, bring her back. Like on TV.
I wanted to be ready to go with them in the ambulance when they got here, so I threw on some clothes. Jeans and a shirt, can't remember which shirt now. Rusty was wandering around, in and out of rooms, and I knelt down at one point and told him I'd take care of him, hugged and kissed him. He wagged his tail..I think he knew.
EMS took such a long time, all I could hear was traffic and dad keeping rhythm. Finally, finally I heard the siren, and I kept fighting hysteria, fighting the urge to run outside and scream at them to get in the house. As it was I held the door open, directing them down the hall to the last door on the left. Rusty was in my room, locked up, but unlike every other time, he didn't bark when he heard new people coming inside. I didn't hear what they told dad, but he cleared out of the room and let them in, answering their questions. He joined me in the kitchen and we both stood there. Hopeless. At a loss as to what to do. He finally suggested that I go in the bedroom with them, as I could answer any medical questions they had. He followed me down the hall as I stood in the doorway. The EMTs weren't doing anything. I remember looking for the shock paddles, wondering for a moment what they were waiting for. The one kneeling by mom looked up. I don't remember what he said. If it was "I'm sorry..she's gone." or just "I'm sorry.." and didn't get the next words out of his mouth, but that's when the world shattered.
My mom, dad's wife, the love of our lives, was dead.
I will never, ever forget dad wailing, "Oh no..." in a voice that was absolutely broken. I didn't even form words, just noise...just a wail, almost a scream. I turned back to him and we hugged each other, sobbing and yelling. He leaned back against the wall and I leaned against him, we held each other trying not to collapse. It felt like an eternity lapsed as we stood there, but it wasn't that long I know. At some point, one of the EMTs guided us gently down the hall into the living room where we sat down. I don't know how long we stayed like that.
I know one of them called the coroner, and a minister with the county. The minister was a gentle, older man. The coroner was a young woman. Before either of them arrived, however, our neighbor from across the street, Lem, came over. We had become acquainted with him and his wife Carol in the last few years, and they knew about mom's medical problems. When he came into the house, I told him he was gone and he looked so sad...he gave me a hug and went back to his house, not wanting to be in the way.
Events are jumbled - dad went back to the bedroom at one point and I saw him stretched out on the floor beside her, stroking her face, sobbing. One of the EMTs had to stay in there, to make sure nothing was done with her, which we understood. They were all very understanding and took pains to not be overly in the way. Before either the coroner or the minister arrived, however, I remember. Shannon, my older sister. Someone had to call her. Looking at dad, I couldn't ask him to. When our grandmother, mom's mom, passed away at our house on May 3rd, 2002, he had had to call Shannon then I believe. But I wasn't sure how she would react.
In February 2012, her and I had gotten into a major fight that had went on for two days. Since it started when I was at work, I got so upset I wasn't able to function properly, so I had to excuse myself from the front desk. I went outside and called mom and asked her to call Shannon and get her to calm down. Mom had always been able to somewhat handle her anger, so I didn't think anything about bringing mom into it. However, it backfired, and they had their own vicious fight. From February on, I did not speak to Shannon and it was only several months later that she apologized to mom and things evened out between them. Despite this though, in 2012 Shannon only came over to the house twice to see her, maybe three times. Mom didn't get to see Zack very often either. But Shannon did take mom to her house the day after Thanksgiving while I was at work, and they had a fun day together. I was genuinely happy - it pained mom to have any sort of fight with either of us, so despite the fact I was still unwilling to talk to her until she apologized to me, I was glad that they were back on good terms.
Our first contact since February was the day our mother died. That still tears at me. But the grudge died there. Later on, she did apologize for what had happened, and I apologized for what I had said. Mom had said several times during the course of the year that she did not want me and Shannon to become like her and her sister Debbie had - falling out after their mother's death over several issues. I had told mom this wouldn't happen. And it won't.
It wasn't long after that that her boyfriend of a few years, Mark, arrived. Her friend left, and at some point the coroner arrived. The minister was there at that point as well. The coroner gathered the three of us in the living room. I sat in the middle. I remember being in shock. I wasn't in control of myself. It wasn't real. She asked us questions about her medical history, her health, the foot operation, what had happened the night before. I went and got extra copies of the medical information I kept on file, her medication list and what not, and gave it to her. She was surprised at the detail and order, which dad and Shannon attributed to me. It wasn't enough, I thought. When she asked about last night, I told her that I'd given her one of the medicines on the list, a sleeping pill. She was having trouble getting enough sleep due to the pain and discomfort of her foot. She asked for one, and I gave it to her - I made sure to tell her that certain of her medicines were kept in my room, so as she wouldn't accidentally get up in the night and take more than one dose.
After telling her about this, I remember asking, "Did I do this? Did I kill her?" Of course I hadn't - how many times had she asked for a sleeping pill and woken up fine in the morning? But at the time, everything I did was suspect to me. I had failed somehow, I was convinced of it. The coroner told us what would happen next, something about taking mom somewhere, then transporting her to Resthaven where she had wanted to be buried...where Nannie and PawPaw were buried, her parents. The words just floated through my head. I couldn't take it in. I remember though asking if we wanted an autopsy done. Dad refused one. Shannon and I wanted one done but we didn't want to argue with dad over it, so we let him make the call. He couldn't take the idea of them opening her up, then sewing her back together.
It finally ended, and the EMTs wheeled in the stretcher. She explained they would place mom on it, wheel her out to the living room where we could say goodbye, then take her out. Somewhere along the way, I had let Rusty out and he had stayed quiet, walking around the emergency workers. I don't know if he stayed with mom very much, I can't remember. He didn't bother anyone though..he knew. Dad and I stayed in the kitchen with the minister, while Shannon was in the living room near the Christmas tree. The tree mom, dad, and I for the first time had decorated together just last Saturday. Mom had sat on the couch and directed dad and I in what to hang and where. It had been a lot of fun, and I had said so during. I remember thinking that we felt like a traditional family, decorating for Christmas. And then four days before Christmas, the joy was gone.
The EMTs wheeled her out. She was covered with a white blanket, the same blanket they had covered her with in the bedroom. Before this, however, when everyone was in the kitchen or the living room, I went back to my room and got a pair of scissors. I knew that mom would want one of her oldest and dearest friends, Janie, a hair dresser, to do her hair for the funeral. So I tilted her head slightly and cut a lock of hair from towards the back and bottom of the hairline, where it wouldn't be noticeable. I apologized, smoothing her hair back down, and put the hair on my nightstand. A day or two later, I placed it in a Zip lock baggie and put it with my treasured items. I can't explain why, even now, but I had to. When I went in there, the blanket was over her head. I found this distasteful, as if she had to breathe, and kept her head uncovered until they had to place her onto the stretcher. While still alone, I kissed her and apologized..I had failed her.
When they brought her out, her head was still uncovered, and we were allowed to say goodbye. Dad kissed her, stroked her head and said something that I can't remember now. I was next. I may have held Rusty up so he could say his goodbye, I'm not sure. I kissed her lips and cheek...she was getting colder, but her skin was still soft. I knew at the funeral she would be embalmed and this was the last time I could feel her naturally. She would be a hardened shell by that time. She was still soft, still my mother on that stretcher. The cheek I had stroked so many times when I had slept in her bed when young, the face I had stroked when she was sick or sad, the face I knew every line, every mark on...the most beautiful face in the world. The face of my wonderful mother.
Shannon was last to go up to her, and I was afraid for a few minutes she wouldn't or couldn't. But she did. The minister stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room so that dad and I couldn't see her being wheeled out of the house, into the hearse, and driven away. In hindsight, I wish I had pushed him out of the way, insisted on seeing her off. But I was in shock, and then it was too late. The minister left his card, the coroner left hers, and then everyone was gone. It was just me, dad, Shannon, Mark and Rusty. Not long after that, Mark and Shannon left. I believe Zack was still at school and part of me hurt, knowing how devastated he was going to be. He loved his Nonie and had worried about her ever since he was at an age to know about her illnesses. Worrying runs in the family.
Dad and I sat in the kitchen, silent and numb. I remember he looked at me and said, "Why don't we go lay down?" So we did. Dad, Rusty and me went into mom's room and laid down on her bed, huddled together. He had woken me at 8:30 a.m. I think I looked at the clock after we were alone, and it was only somewhere around 10-10:30. In the space of 90-120 minutes our world had been turned upside down. When we had been in the living room, before Shannon had arrived, before the coroner had arrived, when we had still been sobbing, he had said, "What are we going to do?" Lying there with him, dozing off and on, I wondered. I didn't know. I still don't know, five months later.
We laid there with Rusty for an hour, but he couldn't sleep and I dozed lightly. Eventually we got up and I can't remember if he called anyone but somehow word spread and my Aunt Beverly brought us over a ham so we wouldn't have to worry about dinner. The rest of the day is a blur, but I know at one point I posted about it on Facebook. Didn't even remember doing it until my phone blew up with messages, texts, etc. We have so little family that it didn't take long for everyone to know. Phone calls to out of state relatives were made. I called my boss. We ate and just laid around, lost. Very lost.
That was Friday, the first day. The weekend is a blur of crying, no sleep, too much sleep, and clinging together. Rusty was absolutely lost. So was Dad. We all were. I think I went into denial - this was just an extended hospital trip. She would come home at some point. But that was harder to maintain when me, dad, Shannon and Mark went to the funeral home. The people at Resthaven were lovely, they didn't pressure us to buy a lot of extra stuff, just worked until we were satisfied. But we weren't thinking clearly - we decided to have visitation on Friday and the funeral on Saturday. The obit would come out in Wednesday's paper..we should have had it in Friday's paper, as most people don't get the full week subscription anymore. But those who matter knew. Mom had made specific requests as to what she wanted for her funeral (she insisted on talking about this to me, even though I never wanted to hear it), and fortunately I had written some of it down. Shannon would make the CD, I told them what she said she'd wanted on her gravestone and dad selected the casket. It was a pretty sky blue with clouds on each corner.
The week seemed to drag. Dad hustled me up to the bank to get me on his and mom's account so I could take over the bills properly (meaning my signature would now be official on checks), I was designated dad's POA - it was as if we were both scared something would happen to him next and I'd be left to swim without a life jacket. Mom had been preparing their wills, but hadn't brought them to their lawyer to get them official. Everything that had to do with finances and what not, dad and I got done that week. And suddenly, it was Friday again. The visitation.
I wasn't sure how I would react walking into the room and seeing mom in the casket. But I walked in with dad, side by side...and when I saw her, I almost smiled. She wasn't there. It wasn't her. It was..a shell. But she looked lovely. Her childhood friend, Janie, a hair dresser, had been convinced to do her hair, and she fit into the dress she wore for her second wedding to dad. Except for a small interval, I stayed there all day, mostly off to myself, chatting with family. It was still all very surreal. A CD that Shannon had made with appropriate songs was playing softly overhead. I heard "My Immortal", "Forever Young" and "My Heart Will Go On" among others. Mom had told me a few songs over the years to include, and between them and the ones we had chosen, it was a good mix. We hadn't been to church in years, but the pastor of the last church we went to (and the same one that did Nannie's funeral service) was contacted and agreed to do the service. He got enough details about her and her life to do a good job, but it wasn't enough. I told them I would do the eulogy. Dad and Shannon were worried that I wouldn't be up to it, but I had to. I just did. And in the absence of enough strong men, I insisted on being a paul bearer. Again..I had to. I had to take care of her. To the very end.
Towards the end of visitation, I left to get dinner, get away for a bit and come back with Rusty. He deserved to have the chance to say goodbye to his mom. Unfortunately during the time I was away, two of my friends came by. I wish I hadn't missed them but there was nothing to be done. When I held Rusty up to see and smell her, he whimpered. He knew. Don't ever think animals don't know these things. It wasn't long after that we all went home. I had a restless night, starting to write the eulogy, but didn't finish it until an hour before the service the next day. That Saturday was cold and snowy, and when we got to Resthaven, the director said that the graveside service would be canceled. They wouldn't risk anyone falling due to the snow on the ground, even though there wasn't that much. None of us were happy about this. But all too soon, the service was set to begin. Her casket was rolled in and set up, the music played and Pastor Dave began to speak.
Then, it was my turn. I grabbed my notebook, went up to the podium, cleared my throat and started to talk. This is the eulogy I gave:
"My mother was the perfect mother. I say this with absolute conviction. She was not a perfect person, none of us are, but as a mom she was wonderful. She loves Shannon and I more than her own life. When we needed her, she was there. She gave of her time, attention, advice and love. Selflessly.
How do you sum up a life in words? How do I sum up her life? I can't really. But for those of us who were blessed to know her, we can say that to know her was to love her. Momma had a charm about her. She was soft spoken, gentle and kind. The trails she went through made her understand a life a lot of us never will. Momma overcame her drug problem with the help of God, Leo Hobbs, and the love and support of us. After that she would frequently say that before judging others, we should walk a mile in some one's shoes. She never judged others. She accepted their shortcomings and loved them anyways.
Anita Diamant wrote in "The Red Tent" that the more a daughter knows the details of her mother's life - without flinching or whining - the stronger the daughter." My sister and I knew the details of our mother's life and that is part of the reason we are the strong women we are now. We have a mother who wasn't ashamed to share things that others would try to hide, because she wanted us to learn from her mistakes. We did learn. And I read a quote the other day, from someone who had gone down the same road as momma, and like her had come out the other side. Unlike her, however, he died young, younger than her. But he had said something that momma would have, and had said, in other words. He said, "I'm ashamed of what I did but not what I've done to correct my mistakes. I'm proud of who I am." His name was Eddie Guerrero, and he was one of the professional wrestlers mom and I frequently watched. Mom was proud of the person she was. I was proud of her too. I told her that frequently. She overcame drugs, and this past January, after a stint in the hospital, she stopped smoking. She had a strong will and that held her through the rough times. The roughest was undoubtedly when her mom, Nannie, was diagnosed with cancer in 2002. During the last six weeks of Nannie's life, mom took care of her without complaining. She showed the strength that all of our family has shown when it's needed. The strength that is carrying us now. Momma's strength.
I love my momma. Our bond is special. We were each other's confidant, each other's companion and best friend. She was the one person that was always there, no matter what. She spoiled me silly, even up to now. Yet through her I learned and became giving, compassionate, understanding and loving. She showed me all of herself - and I am a better woman for it.
We had adventures. The many trips to Virginia Beach to visit Aunt Sandy and Uncle Edward. Trips to Tennessee to visit Meemaw, her grandmother. Our family trip to Florida, where she went para sailing with dad and Shannon - something she was proud of doing. Going to Memphis for a WWE PPV in 2007. Las Vegas in 2011. And our greatest trip, to New York City in September of this year. We were scared yet went anyways. My friend Eric took care of us, and it was one of mom's best times. All her trips to see Rod Stewart, some with Aunt Cathy, who loves him as much as she does. And of course her trip to Italy in 2002 - a precious memory she treasured for the rest of her life.
Momma was happy that she and dad had re-married, yet she never regretted the two years they spent apart. No matter what anyone thinks, this was no wild fancy of hers, nor was it a midlife crisis. Mom needed that time away, and it was fate that brought them back together. Those two years changed both mom and dad - they became friends, which is what was lacking in the first part of their marriage. They learned to talk to each other. Mom let go of the anger she had carried, and when she re-married dad, it was as a wiser woman who knew what she wanted. Dad changed as well - he became more affectionate, better able to talk, and more understanding. They couldn't have known they would wind up back together, but they did - and the last eleven years were so much better than the first twenty two. I was blessed to witness this.
Momma was proud of the woman Shannon has become. She regretted the early years, but was grateful Nannie was there. Shannon is a mix of Nannie and mom, the best of both. Most of all she was proud of the mom Shannon became. The patience and love Shannon showed raising Zack made mom so happy. She realized she had raised a woman that was as selfless and loving a mom as she was. And she was proud of the man Zack is becoming. Funny, quick witted, handsome and incredibly smart. Mom was proud of Zack's achievements and hoped he would continue to do well and go onto college. She loves him with the love only a grandmother can give.
Mom loved her sister, her nephew, and all of her brothers-and-sisters-in-law. They were as close to her as any blood relative. And she loved animals, every cat and dog that came into our house was treated as a person. Her kind heart wouldn't have it any other way.
And mom loved me..."
This was where my written eulogy ended, and I began to speak from the heart. I talked about how she encouraged my somewhat unusual hobbies, my love of reading, my passion for learning, and my outspokenness. I spoke about how we weren't just mother and daughter, but best friends, secret keepers, and each other's protector. I cannot remember exactly what I said, but I know I spoke with love and truth - she was the best mother. I ended with the prayer that mom had modeled her life after, the Serenity Prayer. After I stepped down, Aunt Cathy got up to say a few words, and then the pastor led us in a final prayer. It was over, and Shannon's CD started playing again. Starting from the back, everyone filed up to pay their final respects. When I had been up at the podium, it struck me how few people there there. At Nannie's funeral, ten years earlier, the same chapel had been packed. Since then, though, various friends and family had died or become estranged from us. Most of the family that was there was dad's, and I was grateful for that.
Then it was our turn. Shannon, Zack and Mark went up first. Then dad and myself...we didn't want to leave, didn't want them to close the casket and take her away from us forever even though she was already gone. When dad was done, it was just me. I bent down and kissed her on the nose and stroked her hair, the only part of her that still felt real. Her friend Janie had done a lovely job, despite her always telling mom she couldn't do it. Then I knelt down, placed my forehead against the casket and prayed. That was the last time I prayed for a long time. Kissing the casket, I rose to my feet, talked to her softly, and forced myself to walk off to where dad, Aunt Janet and Uncle Johnny were waiting.
Outside in the lobby, we gathered, waiting as the funeral directors took down the pictures, arranged things properly, and closed the casket. Within it, Shannon and I had put almost all of her Rod Stewart buttons, the Michael Jordan plate I got her in '97, her "I'm the mommy, that's why!" coffee cup, the violin ornament she had gotten me when I was little, Max's ashes...and the final Christmas gift I had never gotten to give her: a soccer ball that had been signed by Rod Stewart. There might have been more items but I can't remember at this point. Once the arrangements were done, the main director stepped out and requested the pallbearers come back in. My cousin Eddie, my sister's ex-husband Shawn, Uncle Johnny stepped forward. Zack was only 13 but he wanted to help so he followed. I led the way. I had always told mom I would be one of her pallbearers, and I felt it was my duty to see that she was taken care of - even to the end. Her casket was rolled to the outside and up to the back of the hearse. We lifted, placed it gently inside and rolled it back until it was all the way in. As they closed the door, we realized that almost everyone else had lined up in their cars behind us. I hurried to mine and drove up, letting dad, Eddie and mom's sister Debbie climb in. Despite it not snowing anymore, the director told us to stay in our cars and park behind the hearse, to watch as the gravediggers took her to the grave site. None of us were happy, but we lined up and made the long, slow trek back to where she would be laid to rest.
With a stroke of luck, the site was only a few yards away from where her parents were laid, which would have made mom happy. As we parked, we watched as the diggers took mom out of the hearse and carried her towards the grave. At that point I couldn't take it. "Hell with it," I said, got out of the car and marched up there past the cars. I started a tidal wave: as soon as everyone else saw me going up there, they followed suit. The director came over and tried to protest but I told him that I wouldn't sue anyone if I tripped, I was going to be there as they lowered her in. He gave up, and I went up to the grave, dad on my left and Shannon on my right. We watched as slowly her casket was lowered. It was cold, and it felt like an eternity that we stood there, but we stayed until it was at the bottom and the straps were released and rolled back up. It may have started to lightly snow at that point. I leaned forward enough that I saw her casket all the way down there in that huge, gaping hole. A pretty blue box surrounded by walls of brown dirt and mud. I recall hearing dad telling me it was time to go and feeling a tug against my jacket. I hardly felt the cold - I wanted to stay. I believe dad feared I might do something drastic, but it never entered my mind. I just didn't want to leave her. After a few more minutes though, I realized I had to. I'd done everything I could for her. My job was done...and once this sank in a few days later, I felt empty.
We went back to the funeral home, gathered up the flowers, the statues, and everything else. I had thought the plan was for all of us to go back to our house since it was so close, but only dad's side of the family came. My sister, aunt, and cousin all went back home, emotionally drained. Eventually, it was just dad and me and Rusty. And so it has been, since that awful day. I exist, but lack a purpose, a meaning.
Now that I've written about her death, let me write about her life. Momma lived for 62 years, and her life was a full, fascinating and varied one. It's my hope that I can bring her to life through my words, and that her story gives hope to anyone that needs it.
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