July 31, 2008
Originally published July 17, 2005
She was feeling depressed today.
She's 94 years old and has already outlived her husband and two of her children. She worries about ME now. I wish that she wouldn't.
She's going blind from macular degeneration but she can still get around on her own. I went outside to smoke a cigarette today and she wanted to come outside with me, in the blistering Georgia heat. I told her to get back inside, that I'd be there in a minute, and she told me not to sass her.
That's my Mommie. She don't put up with NO sass, from NOBODY--- not even a copperhead snake. She insisted that I finish my cigarette before I went back inside, too. I put it out and told her that I was done with it. She couldn't see it anyway.
As we were talking, she said something that disturbed me. "I'm such a burden on everybody today. I can't go to the store, I can't go to the doctor, I can't do ANYTHING anymore without somebody's help. Sometimes I wish that I could just go to sleep and not wake up."
I grabbed her and hugged her (gently, because she is a small, frail woman now--- Bejus, but I remember when she was a BIG, strong farm-wife!) "Don't even think that way, Mommie," I told her. "Too many people love you."
And that's the truth. I am one of those people.
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