Thursday of last week, on December 4th my Mammaw passed through the veil. (And yes, I know there is actually only one ‘m’ in Mammaw but I’ve been spelling it with two my whole Life because that seems more grammatically correct to me and I’m stubborn, so there.) Some of you may have heard me talk about my Mammaw before, some may not. I have spent the last five years trying to mentally prepare myself for her passing. Over the past few years she has slowly deteriorated as Alzheimer’s destroyed her mind. It’s a terrible thing, to watch someone you love so much waste away so slowly. That is the only reason that, until last Tuesday, I hadn’t seen Mammaw in two years. I couldn’t bear it. My worst fear was to have her look me in the eyes and not recognize me. So, instead I chose not to see her. I chose to keep the memories I have of her close to my heart and wait for The Call.
It came about three weeks ago, from my sister. “Mammaw fell this morning.” She said. Apparently she had two collapsed vertebrae. Whether that happened because of the fall or over time due to the severe osteoporosis my Mammaw had the doctors couldn’t say for sure. But there wasn’t anything they could do for it. She also had pneumonia so they doctors were going to give her some strong antibiotics and make her as comfortable as possible. There isn’t anything else you can do for an 81 year old woman with two collapsed vertebrae really. After talking to my sister I turned to my friend Michelle, “My Mammaw is dying.” I told her. I knew in my heart it would be a matter of weeks. And it was. They sent Mammaw home with a hospital bed and medication to keep her as comfortable as possible.
Monday night of last week my sister called me again. Mammaw was not doing well. Her breathing was very labored and she wasn’t eating, they were barely getting any liquids in her at all and the hospice nurse said that she didn’t have much time left. Tuesday I left work early and went to her home for the first time in over two years. It was nearly bursting with family. I saw aunts, uncles and cousins that I hadn’t seen in years and some little ones that I had never seen before. It was surreal. I walked around the house and the yard reminiscing about all the years I had spent there playing. I remember every single tree in that yard as if they were childhood friends, even the ones that had long since fallen or been cut down. My Pappaws old red Snapper riding lawn mower is still in the shed in the backyard. I’m amazed. I wonder if it still runs… I sat in the porch swing and remembered warm summer days spent there shucking corn and breaking beans. I walked through her garden and remembered springtime when everywhere you turned something was blooming, bees were buzzing, birds were singing, and there was always a cat or two slinking around the yard waiting to catch one of those birds unawares. I sat in Mammaws chair at the same beat up old kitchen table that she’s had for longer than I’ve been alive. I ate peanut butter and crackers, Mammaws favorite bedtime snack, and looked around the little kitchen. I remembered early mornings that would find Mammaw making biscuits by the sink. I could see her standing there in her tattered old bathrobe stopping periodically to brush hair out of her face with the back of her hand and peer out the window at the rising sun. She would always hard boil an egg for me because I didn’t like them fried. Now I do, but back then they were gross, lol. Those were the days when I would actually eat pork. She always had bacon or sausage patties, or both depending on what Pappaw wanted. And she made grits. I love grits to this day. When I was with Thing 2 I started trying to make biscuits but never really got very good at it. I haven’t tried in a long time. Maybe I will again. You really can’t beat good homemade biscuits.
I loved helping Mammaw, whether it was working in the garden or with her flowers, or feeding the chickens or gathering eggs, or cleaning house or cooking, or if it was just sitting on the porch swing relaxing and looking around the yard at nothing in particular just reveling in the beauty of it.
I have a pretty large family and surprisingly enough, for the most part, we’ve all managed to stay close through the years. Mammaw and Pappaw had 11 children, 24 grandchildren, and 33 great-grandchildren (so far). My Mom and Dad built a house next door so I literally grew up there. Family was always around so I always had cousins to play with. Mammaw and Pappaw had this large wrap-around porch that provided an excellent place for the kids to play under. The dirt under there was fine and soft and cool. It was a perfect place to build towns and drive cars through for hours on end. They had hardwood floors throughout the house and whenever Mammaw would do her Spring cleaning she would arm whatever grandchildren were around with Pappaws old tube socks and old towels and set us to polishing the floor. That was a blast, it really was. Slipping and sliding around on a newly waxed wood floor with a half dozen other kids. I don’t know how she put up with that many kids around all the time, lol. But she did. She loved it. At least, that’s how it seemed to us anyway. In her kitchen there are two columns of drawers that go from the floor up to the countertop. I remember climbing up the handles on those drawers like the rungs of a ladder to sit on the countertop and watch Mammaw work in the kitchen. Mammaw loved to sing. When she wasn’t singing old church hymns you could hear her singing Barbara Allen or Pretty Polly or In the Pines. They are old songs that most people wouldn’t know today. But I know them, thanks to her. Mammaw was a wiz with plants. She knew about home remedies and old folk cures. She grew up on Lone Mountain in Claiborne County TN. They didn’t have indoor plumbing up on Lone Mountain when Mammaw was a little girl. She lived through the Great Depression and World War II. She washed out plastic bags and pieces of aluminum foil to be re-used later. She composted. Grocery bags were her garbage bags. Lights were only on when they were needed. A wood burning stove was used to heat the house in the winter. She raised chickens for the eggs and for the occasional roast chicken for Sunday dinner. She drove herself to the same Church every Sunday for longer than I’ve been alive. She read her Bible faithfully every night before bed. She was loving and kind and charitable. And by gods she was Strong. For as long as I have been alive she has been there, in that little brick house on the hill, working in the house or in the yard in a dress, an apron, with her hair pulled back in a bandana. For as long as I have been alive she has had the same phone number, the same address, the same routine. The day that she died I took the eldest darkling with me and we both went there and spent all day with her. We took her a bouquet of flowers, mostly lilies. For most of the day her bedroom was full of her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We gathered around her bed, taking turns holding her hands or stroking her hair and we sang. All day long we sang for Mammaw. I joined in hymns that I haven’t sung since I was a little girl. My voice is out of practice. It was weak and unsure, but I sang none-the-less. Less than an hour after I left her that night she passed. But before she passed I kissed her forehead and told her that I love her. I am so glad that I spent that time with her and with my family. She was the one and only constant in my Life… and now she has gone. I am so sad. She has left a huge void in my Life. I’m afraid this post has long since lost coherence, it started out with a poignant point but I think I’ve lost it in my remembering. It doesn’t really matter though… not really. I miss my Mammaw. I only hope that I can live to be the Woman that she was.
