You are given Palliative Care when all hope is gone.
Mom was given meds so she no longer struggled to live.
As she drifted, my siblings and I sang Amazing Grace.
What had happened to this soul that had raised eight loving children?
When did the sadness and unhappiness begin?
When did Mom develop an addiction?
Was it when she was hurt in a car accident, which left her in constant pain?
Was it when she lost her mom and sister?
Was it because her husband was unfaithful?
Was it because her children stopped coming because they were too busy?
Was it because she no longer felt needed?
So many questions to be answered.
There is no one-step cure for addiction, and many times, Mom was detoxed.
In the last few months, Mom seemed to be coming out of her addiction and returning to her old self, but it was too late. The drugs had destroyed her body.
Mom was seventy-seven when she died, and Dad was eighty-three.
Mom was seventy years old when her mother died, and she was forty-three when her father died.
Mom was seventy-two when her only sibling died.
Mom's paternal grandmother (her dad's mother) died when I was about three and a half. I don't remember her.
Mom was close to her grandmother; she helped care for her when she was sick.
Hubby and I moved from Missouri in 2002.
Some days, Mom would be her loving self; other times, she just wanted to be left alone.
We all had busy lives, and family members stopped visiting Mom when she did not respond to our visits.
Mother's Day, Father's Day, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and birthdays became spotty.
Holidays with my parents were significant events, but they slowly drifted away over the years.
When did Dad become addicted?
Was it when he became involved with a drug addict?
Was it when a tractor turned over on him, crushing his ribs and arm?
Was it when he lost his dog, Jack?
Was it when he lost his mom and his drug-addicted girlfriend?
Dad lived alone for about five years, struggling to make ends meet.
Dad did well for a while, but I think Depression took over.
We sold most of Mom's things, which Dad did not want, to pay for the funeral expenses, which her policy did not cover, including their marker.
All of Dad's funeral expenses are paid in full when he leaves us.
Dad moved in with my sister in January 2017.
Dad fell and lay on the floor all night because he couldn't get up by himself.
My sister noticed that Dad was taking his medicine correctly.
She would go to his house in the morning and leave his morning pills.
In the afternoons after work, she would drop off his nighttime pills. Sometimes, she would leave both day and night pills.
She had gone by to drop off his morning pills, and that is when she found him on the floor.
She called a sister who lived close by to help her get Dad up.
I went by later, and he had fallen once again, so we called the ambulance.
He was admitted to the hospital, and he stayed for several days.
Dad was out of his head and would not stay in bed. They were not giving him narcotics; he was having withdrawals.
He was sent to Rehab, where he stayed for over a month.
He was out of his head; he would not stay in bed, so they started giving him drugs to make him sleep.
We finally got him out of Rehab because he was not improving. Dad said they were trying to kill him.
He was angry at them, and he started spitting on the floor.
His doctor said Dad could not live alone, so my sister took him in.
He had to adjust to a new home.
Dad lost some of his memory when he was in Rehab from the medicine they were giving him, which is one of the side effects.
Dad only remembers Mom when she was a young woman.
He does not remember the last few years when he and his mother argued.
He no longer talks about the other woman. Maybe he has forgotten her.
Drugs took her life a month after her mom died.
Dad's only friend for many years was his faithful dog, Jack.
Jack was at Dad's heels every time he walked out the door.
Jack would jump inside Dad's truck, and off they would go.
One dark day, Dad and Jack crossed the road, going to the mailbox.
A car came speeding up the road, nearly hitting Dad, but Jack pushed Dad out of the way.
Jack was hit but did not die right away; he started having seizures and had to be put down.
I think that is when Dad slipped into a deep state of Depression.
He went downhill after that. Nothing mattered anymore.
Dad would cry at the drop of a hat; nobody knew why. He would tear up whenever he talked about his best friend, Jack.
Time heals all wounds, even the mind.
While Dad was in Rehab, a preacher visited him. He said, "The preacher saved my life."
Dad wanted to go to church when he got out of Rehab.
Now my sister takes him every Sunday.
My dad went from a scruffy older man to a clean-cut, well-dressed gentleman.
His demeanor has changed.
When Dad was on drugs, he cried a lot, Dad cussed, and threatened to kill one of my brothers.
Now, he is the dad I remember from growing up —a kind and loving father.
It is incredible how your life changes when you stop taking narcotics.
I recall precious memories.
We worked together, we played together, we were a team.
We spent many weekends swimming, boating, and skiing on the Tennessee River.
Mom would load our station wagon with everything she needed for the day, which included food, clothing, diapers, and formula. (for there was always a baby)
Mom married Dad when she was fourteen, and I was born a month before she turned sixteen.
Two years between the first children, but the other children came closer.
She had eight children before age thirty, so we grew up together.
When my sister started dating, she and my mom looked alike, and people often mistook my mom for my sister.
Dad would load the car and hitch our boat to the back of the station wagon.
Dad would back our boat into the Tennessee River with the older children helping.
Most of the time, it took two trips to get all the children across Seven Mile Island.
All the children had to wear those orange life preservers.
We did not care what we ate because we were too busy having fun.
We would get sunburned if we did not use sunscreen.
Mosquitoes bit us; we did not have insect repellent.
We would get leeches on the mosquito bites.
Sometimes, we ate bologna sandwiches, chips, pork n' beans, and drank tea or Kool-Aid.
Sometimes, Mom would deep-fry fish that Dad had caught in the Tennessee River.
She would make Hush Puppies and French fries.
This was quality time with family.
We moved to Florence when I was twelve, and things changed.
We still went to the river, but not as often.
Moving from the country to the city brought disease because people lived in closer proximity to one another.
When we lived in the country, we did not have this problem.
The diseases the children contracted were whooping cough, Scarlet fever, Chickenpox, measles, sore throat, and rheumatic fever.
Mom spent many hours at the Florence Clinic with her children, which she never had to do when we lived in the country.
When I was a teen, Dad's job took him out of town, so Mom was on her own.
All the children would pitch in and help do chores.
I recall that we had an automatic washer, but no dryer. My sisters and I would hang clothes on the clotheslines and our neighbor's fence.
Dad built several shelves in the utility room to store the laundry.
Dad moved the family back to the country.
Two of my sisters and I had married and left home.
All my younger siblings went to Brandon Elementary School when we lived in town.
When they moved to the country, my siblings went to Wilson School.
My youngest sister and brother were the only ones in our family to graduate from college.
Several individuals obtained their GED, and some later pursued higher education.
When Mom and Dad got married, they moved to Detroit, Michigan, and Dad got a job at the Chrysler Plant, earning a good income.
Mom missed home; she didn't like big-city life.
Mom wanted Dad to stay with her, but Dad enjoyed playing cards and spending time with his friends.
So, Mom packed her bags, caught a bus, and went home to Alabama. Dad followed several weeks later.
Dad worked for Reynolds but hated working inside, so he quit.
Dad worked for Mr. Jerrod moving house.
Dad worked for Tom McCravey for several years.
Dad may have worked for other people that I'm not aware of.
Dad worked for Billy Hensley for many years and then ventured out alone.
Dad got his license for plumbing and electrical work.
Dad could learn just about any work. He worked on cars and added to every house we lived in.
My brothers worked with Dad for many years before venturing out on their own.
Dad could not work alone, so he hired helpers after my brothers left.
I was fortunate enough to know my grandparents and great-grandparents.
My great-grandfather died when I was twelve. (Mom's grandfather) His first wife died when my grandmother was about nine years old.
My grandmother's dad married a woman named Cora, who was the only great-grandmother I knew.
Cora lived eleven years after my great-grandfather died, and my grandmother took care of her in her last days.
At one time, a train carried passengers from Sheffield to Town Creek.
My grandparents traveled the rails many times to Town Creek.
When they arrived in Town Creek, her dad would pick them up in his car.
When the train stopped carrying passengers, my dad would drive the family and my grandparents to Town Creek to visit.
My grandmother and grandfather (my mom's parents) were financially struggling, but we didn't realize it because they always had food and gifts for us. They were kind and loving.
Sometimes, their grandchildren lived with them.
My grandfather and grandmother, my dad's parents, were not wealthy. They raised three grandchildren while their parents worked and lived in Chicago.
We kept the roads hot when we went from one grandparent's house to the other because our grandparents lived within walking distance.
We had cousins living with both grandparents, so there was always someone to play with.
We never stayed indoors in our grandparents' home because we were used to playing outside.
Dad was fifty-eight when his mother died and sixty-four when his father died.
Dad visited his parents like clockwork, helping them as much as possible. He was a devoted son.
One summer, Mom got a job surveying the City of Florence. She worked with another woman (whose name I cannot remember), but that woman did not drive. For some reason, Mom had to give up the job, so I took over surveying the City of Florence.
I worked all summer driving without a driver's license. That fall, I turned sixteen, but I had not yet taken the driving test.
With the money I made, I bought my class ring and got my driver's license.
We attended the First Assembly Church faithfully. Mom made many lifelong friends when we lived in the city.
When my parents moved to the country, they attended church at various people's houses or at a different church.
I heard my boys talk about attending church with their grandmother and watching them be filled with the Holy Spirit.
They said they would escape and go outside when Granny was filled with the Spirit and no one was watching.
I laugh at their stories about going to church with their grandmother.
They said it was not funny then.
My oldest son is six years younger than my youngest brother, so they were like brothers growing up.
Dad was a kid at heart and enjoyed spending time with kids and grandkids.
Dad would take a truckload of grandkids to the Joy-Land Drive-In. Mom usually stayed at home because she did not like the movies Dad watched.
We ate a lot of pizza when Dad was doing construction work for Domino's in Cloverdale.
He either got a free pizza or a cheap pizza.
Dad owned several trucks; the family favorite was his large blue van.
In the 1970s, Dad drove his van, along with his mom, dad, and son-in-law, to Canada.
My grandmother was a Canadian; she had not been home since she married my grandfather in 1926.
My grandfather met my grandmother while working for his great-uncle's farm in Canada.
My grandparents wrote letters to each other for a couple of years while my grandfather traveled in search of work.
After the war, my grandfather joined the army and learned to work on airplanes in the hangar bay.
When he returned from the army, he asked for my grandmother's hand in marriage.
They married in Canada, and my grandmother moved to Michigan with my grandfather.
They heard about the New Deal and the TVA Dam Project in Sheffield, Alabama.
They loaded all their belongings into my grandfather's truck and traveled to Sheffield.
They stayed in the old Sheffield hotel until they found a place to live.
They lived in Muscle Shoals for several years. They moved to Tuscumbia and finally settled in Sheffield.
My dad and his siblings attended a Catholic School in Sheffield. He attended School in Muscle Shoals and High School on Colbert Mountain.
My grandmother was the oldest of thirteen children, two sets of twins, and two died in infancy.
Some of my grandmother's siblings were very young when she left home.
My grandmother had a sister the same age as her oldest son, whom she had never met.
She and her younger brother had moved with their mom to British Columbia, where the climate was warmer, but they did not come for the reunion.
My grandmother communicated with all her siblings via telephone and mail.
My grandmother got to visit with one of her sisters and several brothers.
My grandmother was not in the best health, so Dad made her a bed in the back of the van so she could rest on the long journey to Canada.
Over the years, many trips were made to Michigan to visit relatives.
All of my grandfather's siblings lived in Michigan.
Sometimes, it was just family. Other times, Dad would take my grandparents.
As the family grew, so did Dad's vehicle. We went from a small car to a station wagon, a pickup truck with a camper, and a large side van.
There was at least one addition to our family every year. So our family grew and grew.
We started spending more time at home with our families, taking vacations with them, so our time with our grandparents dwindled.
Now I feel the pinch as my grandchildren have grown and married, and some have children of their own. Once they become teenagers, they no longer need their grandmothers.
Time is spent with their friends and family, just as we did with our grandparents.
As I get older, I wish I had spent more time with my parents and grandparents. I could have learned a lot more about my heritage.
