Ricki Paige Fields

Fall 1999

One Day at a Time:

A Personal Narrative

The day before my 19^th birthday my parents had taken me out to dinner for somewhat of a celebration. It was the first time in six days that we had left my grandmother’s side at St. John’s Hospital. The sun was really hot that day, which is not unusual for the drought-stricken fields of west Texas. As I was getting into the car, something caught my eye. The most beautiful sight I had ever laid eyes on! Like a kid, I said to my mom, "Look, it’s a rainbow." The hues were so brilliant, and it looked as if it were bathing in glitter; it was a magnificent dance of color. As we traveled back to the hospital, the car ride was very quiet with the usual amount of small talk that fills the air when you’re trying not to talk about something (like my grandmother being in the hospital). I kept watching the rainbow, as if I could find the end. We pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, and much to my surprise, it looked as if the end of the rainbow rested directly over the hospital.

My grandmother was born on the 10^th day of September in the year 1923. She had a good ol’ Southern name, Bessie Evelyn Thaxton, but to me she’s always been Mama (pronounced "Maw-maw," but when I was little that was too difficult to spell). A child of the Depression, she grew up in some very difficult times. She married rather young to a man that the family doesn’t ever talk about. She divorced him, and wed my grandfather (Paw-paw), Homer Chalk Lee. They never did tell very many stories of their courtship or newlywed years. However, there are many old black and white photos that tell the story perfectly. Countless pictures of them swimming, reminiscing with friends and family, and one in particular that sticks out in my mind is one that Paw-paw took of her wearing a two piece swimsuit with a big pile of snow in the background. My favorite is their wedding picture. My grandmother wore a velvety, salmon-pink, tailored suit. The lapel had tiny little pearls scattered about, and there were two pearl buttons that gathered the jacket around her tiny, size 4 waist. Around her smoky-blue eyes danced the brim of a floppy hat that gave the ensemble a sophisticated look, and her face took on a rosy glow with the salmon color framing it so delicately. She looked absolutely gorgeous, especially with a handsome beau like my grandfather at her side. He stood about 5’6," not very tall, but very dashing in his champagne-colored suit. The picture shows a lifetime of wonderful times ahead. Together they had three children: Annabeth, Dollye Darlene, and Sandra Jo Lee (my mom). I am the only grandchild.

Because I was the only grandchild, I was spoiled rotten. Grandma’s house was my favorite place to visit. My Maw-maw and I were very close… sometimes literally. When I was young, Maw-maw drove a pale yellow Chevrolet Impala. She loved that big boat of a car! Dividing the driver’s from the passenger’s side of the car was an armrest that pulled down. I would climb up into the car, pull down the armrest, hop up onto it, and then get situated for the adventure that awaited us. Due to the fact that the armrest was tall, I always sat higher than my grandmother did. So I would throw my little, scrawny arm around her, and down the road we would go in our big ol’ Impala. Many other memories follow my younger years. Whether it was holidays, birthday parties, awards ceremonies, spelling bees, surgeries, my grandparents were always there. Even when I moved to Sonora, which was an hour away from their home in San Angelo, my grandparents would load up in their big white Cadillac (a.k.a. the big white bomb) and come to my awards ceremonies.

As the years went by, age began to take its toll, and Maw-maw had a stroke. It was a pretty bad one, but the doctors kept downplaying it by saying that it could have been a lot worse. Maw-maw always had a great sense of humor, but after the stroke she became kind of goofy. She wasn’t crazy; she just had a few quirks. Sometimes she would repeat herself. One day she would remember everything, the next day she would remember nothing, and the funniest thing was that she would make up stories.

During the summer before my senior year in high school, I took my best friend over to visit Maw-maw and Paw-paw. Johnna loved Maw-maw because she thought she was "a hoot!" We were sitting on the couch, and my grandmother turned to me and said, "Did I ever tell you about our cousin, Norman?"

"No, I don’t think so. What about him?" I ask.

"He was a crazy guy. One time he saddled a catfish and rode him out of the river. It was a big fish, and Norman swore that thing also talked," she said with a straight face.

I could tell by her expression that she was completely convinced that it had happened. I didn't dare laugh at the time, but as soon as Johnna and I got in the car we were roaring with laughter.

My senior year of high school my entire family came down for graduation. Every year after the ceremony, the town sponsors a project graduation that lasts until about 7am. After the festivities, I had gone home to sleep the rest of the day. All of the rooms in my house were occupied, so I grabbed a quilt and a pillow and headed for the couch. I was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. My legs began to flail, and I was trying to sit up, but something was preventing me from doing so. In the midst of my fit, I hear my grandfather yell, "Get up! You’re sitting on her!" I managed to somehow uncover enough of my head to realize that Maw-maw had accidentally sat on my head! Of course everyone in my family thought it was the most hysterical thing they had ever seen. My mom always likes to top off that story with, "Yep, she and Maw-maw were cheek to cheek!"

The summer after my first year of college, my best friend, Catherine and I had gone to spend the weekend with another friend of ours at her lake house. On the way back to Cat’s house in San Antonio, I felt the need to call home. I called my house. There was no answer. I called my grandparent’s house, and there was no answer there either. I knew something was wrong because my grandparents never left the house for any reason other than to go to the beauty shop. I called my parent’s office, and the receptionist told me that they had taken my grandmother to the hospital. My heart sank. I had only called the hospital once in my whole life, but somehow I was able to remember the phone number as if it were my own. Maw-maw had another stroke. This one was bad. It was too late to drive home, so I stayed the night with Cat and left at 6am the next morning. I wasn’t sure how serious it was, but I knew that she wasn’t well. I cried the entire four-hour trip. None of the music I listened to was comforting: rock… too peppy; country… too pathetic; classical… too emotional; Christian… too sad.

I walked in to what seemed like a normal hospital room. It was as if I had been visiting a friend that had just had their tonsils taken out. I never could have expected what I was about to see. I was very sad, but in denial about how serious this stroke was. When I saw my grandmother in her hospital bed, she looked pallid and frail. The glimmer in her eyes had been replaced by a maddened, painful look. All of these tubes and needles were invading every part of her body as if the same thing that was keeping her alive was also sucking the quality of life from her. My mom was standing beside Maw-maw. Mom would look at her, and then with a look of helpless she would take hold of her hand and gently rub it to try and comfort her. Everyone in the room carried on a conversation with some normality. I walked over to the other side of Maw-maw’s bed, and I just stood and looked at her. Not knowing what else to say, I meekly whispered a hello. It was at this very time that I realized how bad it was. Maw-maw wasn’t able to say anything. She was awake, but she had lost all of her abilities. I talked at her, and I know she could hear and understand every word I said. My aunts came down from Arizona and Dallas during the week. My grandfather just couldn’t handle the pain of seeing her lying there and him helpless. He took pride in the fact that he took such good care of her, and now he could do nothing. The only woman he loved, the mother of his children was slipping away. He always expected to be the one to go first, and now life had taken a turn for the worse. None of us could believe what was happening. Without saying it, we all knew how this was going to end because the last four days were filled with stories, memories, and things like, "Do you remember when Maw-maw used to…?" I had never known the effect of talking about someone in the past tense until that week.

The next six days are a blur. Doctors came in and rushed out. Nurses came in to take blood, monitor all of the machines, and refill the I.V. bags. We heard the same thing everyday from the specialists, "She’s not progressing any." No one knew what to say or what to do. Nothing could help her.

That Saturday, the day before my birthday, I was standing beside Maw-maw. Her eyes were wide as if she was afraid to close them in fear that she would not be alive to open them again. I looked at her and said, "Maw-maw, I know you can’t talk to me, but squeeze my hand three times to say I love you, and I know you can at least hear me." I stood, and I hoped, held my breath, and waited for her weak little hand to tighten. What seemed like an hour, but was in actuality a few seconds, went by, and I had just about given up. She had not heard a word I had said all week. I would never get to tell her good bye, and that I loved her so very much. As I was about to take my hand back to give up and retreat to my sorrow, I felt her hand barely tighten in three short successions. I looked at her with huge tears in my eyes, and she looked at me. At that moment I think we said our good-byes. I knew that in time my first 19 years of memories would be all I was left with because she would be leaving us soon. About an hour later my family and I decided to go out for dinner. We did not know that would be the last time to see Maw-maw alive. God had taken her up to heaven on His rainbow, and she now watches over me as my Guardian Angel.

Today is her 76^th birthday. I think about her every minute of the day, especially today. There isn’t one thing that I look at that doesn’t somehow remind me of her. It has been a little over two years now, and often the thought of her still makes me very sad. The time it is the worse is around my birthday. However, on each birthday I have received an extraordinary gift. My grandmother has sent me a rainbow each year, one as big and brilliant as the one that took her to heaven. My grandmother’s favorite saying was, "One day at a time. That’s all we’ve got." Her rainbow is a reminder to make each day wonderful because you never know what the next one will bring, or in sadder instances, who it could take away.