Auburndale May 21, 1991. . . It’s a Monday. Friday was the last day of school for students, but teachers got 3 workdays after that. I know – that was the good ole’ days. My sister Patti and I were here in Auburndale working, but the rest of our family, our parents, our sister and our nephews had left on Saturday for a week’s vacation in the Keys. Robyn had rented a great house on Marathon and they were having a great time. I’m at my Mom and Dad’s house with Patti and the phone rings. Patti answers it, sort of whimpers, and drops the phone. I pick it up and hear “Your Mom’s had an accident. Your Dad wants you there as fast as you can. Meet Dave Norris at the Winter Haven airport as soon as you can and he’ll get you there.”
Daddy’s friend Dave Norris had a small plane. We gathered up some stuff, passed my niece off to family, and went to the airport. It was a long, hot flight. There was lightning he had to change direction several times to avoid it. When we landed, he said something like "I don't usually fly in weather like that." We landed at the Marathon airport and Daddy picked us up. He took Dave Norris back to the house and took us to Fisherman's Hospital.
He left us at the hospital with Robyn and she told us what happened. On Monday, they went to Bahia Honda State Park, my Mom’s favorite place maybe in the world. When they came out of the water, our mom sort of collapsed. My nephew and our dad pulled her out of the water and Robyn started CPR. A guy in a kayak called 911 and helped Robyn with CPR. To get there, you have to cross the 7 Mile Bridge and climb over a ridge on the island to get to where they were. It took a little while. Robyn and Kayak Guy did CPR the whole time until the ambulance got there. The ambulance took Mama and Daddy, while Robyn collected her boys and all the stuff. All that happened without us.
When we got there, it was late Monday night or early Tuesday morning, and she was completely unresponsive and hooked up to life support.
I think my mom knew she was going to die young. She told us for years multiple things about her funeral. She wanted our friend Mrs. Rita to sing, and she wanted the Hallelujah Chorus played at the end. She also told us over and over again that she NEVER wanted to be kept alive by machines. We asked why she was on life support. They told us they had to for a certain amount of time.
On Tuesday, our Granny and our mama’s sisters got there. Our Aunt Cecelia stayed for a while alone. She told us later that the doctor came in while she was there and she asked why her sister was hooked up to those machines – that she didn’t want that. (See, everybody knew that!) He told her that whoever did CPR on her did a really, really good job, so good in fact that her heart was still beating too much on its own for him to let her go. Tuesday night, some ladies from Calvary Baptist Church came in to see us. That is the church that we go to when we are in the Keys. They had heard about what happened and came to see what they could do for us. That is why I still keep my eye on that church. Those people didn’t know us from anyone, but they came to check on us.
We were told that the doctor would come to see us on Wednesday morning and we would have to tell him to turn off her machines. We knew what we had to tell him. we knew what she wanted. We have no regrets or remorse about that. but it wasn’t easy.
Early Wednesday morning, we looked in the hallway and saw some of our longest family friends coming down the hallway. Mrs. Rita and Bro Frank Newberry and Bro Jim Elliot drove from Lakeland to be there with us. We told the doctor what he needed to hear and he told us what would happen. We stood around her bed, our friends prayed for us, we cried a lot, and we left the room. We went back to the great house Robyn rented, packed everything up, and drove home. It was a long ride. The most frustrating thing was the whole world was going on as normal, but ours would never be normal again.
Those are the facts. There are some things I know and things I don't know. I don't know if my mom went to Jesus on Monday, May 21, or on Wednesday, May 23. I know what the paperwork says, but I don’t know the real answer. I KNOW she was stubborn ( I get that honestly!) I think it was time for her to go and she didn’t want to. Did she argue with God a little.? Did she tell Him that we still needed her? Did she tell Him we all needed to be together before she could leave? I don’t know.
Here’s another thing I don’t know: the man in the kayak who helped Robyn do CPR? No one else ever saw him. No one else remembers him.
I know this: the staff at Fisherman’s Hospital in Marathon were the kindest, sweetest people ever. They never said a word about how many of us were there, never gave us grief about setting us shop in the waiting room or taking up the phones. They just walked around us.
I also know this: May 21 is the beginning of a sad set of days for my family. I try really hard to think of good things. My Mom’s last place was her favorite place. Have you ever been to Bahia Honda State Park? It’s one of God’s greatest gifts to us. My parent’s first date was at the beach. Their last date was to the beach. In August of 2001, they would have been married 40 years. There’s a butterfly garden now pretty close to the place where they brought her out of the water. She would have liked that.
We had her funeral on Memorial Day. Our church was FULL of people. So, so many people gave up their holiday for us that year. It was overwhelming. Our friend Mrs. Rita sang. Coach Stacy, who sang at our Mom and Dad's wedding sang at her funeral. And yes, we played the Hallelujah Chorus at the end.
So tomorrow May 21, I’m working at home. I might stay in my pajamas. I might eat ice cream. I might cry. I might cry on Saturday, May 23. I might stay in my pajamas. I won’t cry for my mama. I’ll cry for me. I'll cry because 19 years without my Mama is a long time. I’ll cry for what she’s missed. I’ll cry that Ken and Josh and Makiah didn’t get her long enough. I’ll cry that we never got to celebrate that 40th anniversary or a 50th anniversary. But even while I cry, I know that I don’t cry as those who have no hope.
I can cry with hope. I can say goodbye with hope. Cause I know our goodbye is not the end and one day, she’ll look at me and say “there you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”
