The Last Day of My LIfe

It was Christmastime and Mama wanted to go shopping. We got in the car and headed out for the stores. I always loved the time I spent with Mama. We could always find something to talk about or something to laugh about together. I remember that it was a typical south Alabama holiday season - cool and sunny. The day was made of crystal.

I can’t remember all the places we went, maybe Penny’s or Sears. I don’t remember exactly what we bought. I just remember the sun shining and the laughter we shared. No doubt she bought presents for everyone she could afford.

I still have a beautiful scarf she bought me that Christmas and an Avon perfume bottle with perfume still in it. I also have the perfume bottle I bought her that Christmas with perfume still in it. The perfume no longer smells sweet. The memories are bittersweet.

One moment is graven into my memory, as if it happened moments ago. We were traveling along River Falls Street on our way to the mall. Traffic was heavy that day for a town of 10,000. Everyone was trying to get their last minute shopping done. We came to a stand still where the railroad tracks crossed the road and ran beside the Alatex shirt factory. At just that point, the road dips down in a small steep hill, maybe three or four feet in elevation. A train track was positioned at the top of the hill and one at the base of it. We were stopped on the bottom tracks waiting for someone ahead to move along. I had never seen a train on those tracks and had no idea why they were still there.

Mama looked both ways and said, “I sure hope a train doesn’t come along while we're here.”

“Mama,” I said in the wisdom of all 17-year-olds, “they don’t use this track anymore.”

The words had hardly left my mouth when to our left we heard a train whistle blow. Mama and I looked down the tracks and then at each other and broke into loud laughter. The traffic moved forward, I moved off the tracks and we continued our shopping day. Nearly 10 years later I would live in a house a block away and within 10 feet of the same tracks with my son. Still later Daddy would die in the same house.

I remember very little else of that day except a brief excursion into a tiny novelty shop just beyond that track. I don’t know why I remember that one scene. Unless it is because it was the last day I can remember that we spent alone together and laughed. It was mid-December 1973. She died January 2, 1974. I have tried to remember other things about that time but I can only remember the dreams I had been several having for weeks before of Mama dying. I wrote them down in letters to my boyfriend.

On Christmas Eve my aunt and uncle and their two sons had arrived from Texas and we opened presents. I watched Mama twirling around in the hall doorway, a smile on her face, showing off the new robe my Aunt Phillis had bought for her. She looked so pretty and she smiled and said the last words I'd ever hear her say, “If Elaine and Earl were here I could die happy.” Moments later she sat down and had a stroke. She never spoke to me or laughed with me again. I remember screaming when the world, as I knew it, ended.

We buried her January 4th. January was so cold. I was alone. I don't remember anything after that. Oh, I miss her so much.