Back Home The Same Day
One year ago…March 17, 2019
My mother, Dorothy Mallory Jones, died last night.
At ninety-nine, she’d lived a long life. More important, she lived a life of consequence. I’m sure I’ll talk about that in times to come. It will take me some time to fully digest the past few days and weeks and months. I know I’ll want to write about it.
Last week, my daughter, Lauren, came to visit her grandmother. Lauren hadn’t seen my mother in several weeks, and Mom’s decline had been precipitous. So much so that my child had to wipe away a flood of tears before taking her seat at the bedside. Mom could still talk, some. But mostly, Lauren talked to her. After a few minutes, Mom hoarsely mumbled to Lauren in the gurgled whisper that remained of her voice, “Back home…”
With that, Lauren smiled broadly and chimed in, “…the same day.”
The refrain originated between the two of them, beginning when Lauren she was three or four years old. When Lauren was a toddler, she and Mom would go out together — to the store or their near-daily trips to the library. Upon their return home, Mom would say, “Back home the same day.” This soon became a call and response between the two. Mom would say, “Back home”. Then Lauren would respond from her car seat, “The same day.” It became a kind of family code: everything was all right- everything was as it should be.
When they said those words to each other at the bedside a week ago, there wasn’t a dry eye between the three of us. The shared history between them and among the three of us was summed up within the walls of those few words. By yesterday, when Lauren came to see her grandmother one last time, Mom was no longer able to speak her part. Talking was beyond her. Lauren, rubbing her grandma’s hand and through her own tears said, “I’ll see ya, Gram. Back home, the same day.”
Again, I lost it, but in that moment I realized that there was only one title possible for my next book, the story of a remarkable woman — a woman who overcame a lot of odds; one who grew up depression-era poor and motherless at the age of seven. But damn it, she didn’t quit. For ninety-nine years, one month and five days, she didn’t quit. May she rest in eternal peace.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Donald Brooks Jones is an author, editor and book-builder. He is the co-founder of Alchemy Media Publishing.
LITTLE DID I KNOW: The Coming of Age of a Black Boomer https://alchemymediapublishing.com/?my-product=little-did-i-know
and
DATELINE: BRONZEVILLE: A Runny Walker Mystery https://www.datelinebronzeville.com/
