Southern Gothic Dreams X

My Mother's Mother

Bamie and me...

We called my mother's mother "Bamie," because my older sister couldn't pronounce "Granny" properly. Bamie had several children, including her eldest son - my Uncle Jack - my mother, and my Uncle Tommy and Uncle Billy, and my aunts Alma, Linda, and Pat. After my Uncle Jack drowned after his fishing boat capsized off the shores of Wrightsville Beach, NC, Bamie's family was never the same, and the cold truth of the matter is that my grandmother opted to remain close only with my mother and our family. Relations between my aunts and uncles became very tenuous, and I've only seen a few of them on rare occasions, some more than others. 

Bamie was a tough nut to crack for most. She grew up in the Depression era, so she was a very stoic individual. Her father was an alcoholic, and her mother died when she was young, so she - being the only girl in her little family - raised her twin brothers; I never met her father or her brothers - I think they died before I was born. Bamie rarely talked about her childhood, but she did tell me that food was so scarce and her father was such a bully when she was small that she would boil eggs and bury them in the dirt under her family's home, which was raised up on tall wooden pilings somehow.

My older sister was extremely close with my grandmother, and so was I. I have fond memories of spending quiet days at her house when I was a kid, listening to the Bob Whites say their name from the tree branches on Gordon Road. "Bob, Bob White!" - I can also remember the cool breezes that would blow through her dining room, and the smell of the back room, the linoleum tile, and chasing her fluffy white cat around. The cat's name was, appropriately enough, "Fluffy," by the way,

Bamie had a beautiful portrait of my Uncle Jack that hung in a prominent place in her living room. I always admired that picture, because he was an extremely handsome man, and he died in his prime. To Bamie's family, I always imagined he was like James Dean. I still have vague memories of my parents debating as to whether or not I should be allowed into the funeral home to see his body, and the lines of somber-faced grown-ups that had formed outside to pay their respects. Someone got drunk at the family home after the viewing or the funeral, and I remember my parents dragging me out of the house, being hoisted up over my mother's shoulder, and how my dad scrambled to drive us out of there as I watched shots being fired overhead as we sped away. No one will give me a straight answer about what happened, but it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, I guess.

My grandmother and I were really close until a year before she died, when family drama put a wedge between us that wasn't removed before her mysterious passing. When things were good between us, we would talk for hours, and I really miss her sometimes. She was not an easy for most people to read, but I completely understood her, and she seemed to understand me as well. My fondest memories of her are of times when she would sit down and rest, and just smile pleasantly, sometimes holding onto a cane, and never say a word.

Yesterday, while running errands, I took my family into a craft store in Nicholasville, and as we entered the lobby, I saw an elderly woman sitting on a bench, looking away from the direction we were walking. She was resting on a cane, just like my grandmother, and dressed in an outfit similar to one that Bamie favored.

It was only for a split second, but as I studied the lady, I had an eery feeling overtake me, as if it actually was Bamie, and she was there to escort me to Heaven or something. I almost fell into a swoon at the thought of it, and was relieved when she looked my way, and I saw it was someone I didn't know. It reminded me very much of fantasies I had as a child that, as I passed strangers on the road, I would recognize them, and they would actually be me. I had these thoughts over and over again. Later, after my father died, I'd have fantasies that I'd see him standing on the side of the road in strange towns, but my grandmother passed away in the early 90's, so I can't figure out why I'd imagine her so vividly at this stage of my life. It was like a waking dream, and a very unsettling one indeed. 

Bamie had Type II Diabetes, and so do I. It's what eventually killed her, and I've been struggling with my Diabetes for nearly two decades now. Every day brings a new challenge, and the thought of just being able to rest, and smile, and not say a word brings some kind of strange comfort to me at times.