"Daddy"

It has been a very hot and humid summer and the grass seems to be growing relentlessly. I have grabbed my weedeater as soon as my husband Bob got in from work so that mother would have some company while I do this dastardly deed. Even though it is a little late, I head on out.

As I climb the bank at the road, I notice Bob leaving. I suddenly remember that tonight is his Rescue Squad meeting. Not wanting to leave mother alone, I hurriedly finish up and notice that my watch says 7:15 pm. Being in such a hurry to rush out and begin my summer chore, I had forgotten to give mother her evening medications, putting her behind approximately two hours or more.

As I open the kitchen door, I see her sitting in the livingroom with a Windstream phonebook in hand. I call to her and let her know that I'll be bringing her p.m. medications to her as soon as I get them prepared. Walking over to her, I can see that she has no concern about her medications being late. She continues to thumb through the pages of the phonebook. "What are you looking for mother?" I ask. "Well, I was wanting to call your daddy and see why he hasn't been to see me since I moved here" she answered. "I'm trying to find our telephone number, do you remember it?" she asks. How heartbreaking it is to see your mother looking through a phonebook for a telephone number that has been long removed as well as the person for whose name she searches, "Bryson Gibson."

It's been some 20 years now since daddy left us for a much better place, "Heaven."
Many times, my siblings and I had felt our daddy a little slighted, since she had fell madly in love with her second husband Yates. Watching our Dad take the back seat in mother's affections even though we all loved Yates, felt a little strange.

I've been noticing lately that mother hasn't made reference to her second husband Yates or anything pertaining to their life together of nearly 19 years.

All that's on mother's mind tonight is "where is Bryson?" Going down the list of Gibsons in the phonebook, mother comes across my Uncle Lawrence, daddy's baby brother's name. She acts as if she's found an Easter egg as she exclaims, "Here's Lawrence's number, we can call him and see if he knows where Bryson is." I finally feel the need to remind her that daddy has passed, thinking that this will end her fantasy. "He didn't die did he?" she inquires. "Yes mother, he's been gone for about 20 years now. "Are you sure? I just can't believe he's dead. Let's look and see if Aunt Ruth's number is in here, is she still alive? "Yes mother, but I'm telling you that Daddy isn't with us anymore." Just as soon as it leaves my lips, she comes up with another idea of how we can find out where daddy is.

As the night wears on, it's soon mother's bedtime, and I must say, I'm ready for it. Worn out from explaining to her over and over again that daddy is no longer with us and just how it all came about, I am exhausted. I have promised her if she goes to bed now, that we will go visit his gravesite and have lunch out tomorrow. This seems to appease her and she gladly crawls into bed.

I have fondly given mother a nickname, "Snuffy" which is short for "Mr. Snufflelupagus" a character off Sesame Street, which reminds me of her as she climbs into bed each night at the pace of a snail.

It seems that mother isn't the only one as slow as a snail around the Edwards' household today. It will be a long time before I'm slow to give mother her evening meds again.