Throughout my adolescent years, teen years and young adult
years I always relied on my Papaw to be the sense of reason, if there was one
person that could always get through to me, it was him. He just had this way about
him, this comforting, calming way that got straight through to me. I
know you may find this hard to believe but I tend to be a little dramatic
(HaHa); I can’t help it – I come from a long line of independent,stubborn and
dramatic women, we own it. When I was having a hard time with school, a friend,
a boy or just anything in life, that I thought was actually a problem at the
time, I would always go to Papaw – we would sit in the living room or on the
front porch in his favorite rocking chair and just be. Sometimes we would talk, sometimes we would
shout out absurd answers to Jeopardy, sometimes he would talk on the phone and I would just listen,
some days we wouldn’t say anything at all. Regardless of how
we spent our time together, I cannot remember a time that I walked away not feeling
completely better about my current predicament or confident in a decision I had
to make.
I was in Tampa, Florida for work when COVID19 first started
making major news headlines. Confession, I don’t watch the news much, I just
don’t like it. I read online news sometimes, and I try to stay up to date on any healthcare related items,sometimes trashy gossip items related to my favorite
Hollywood types and sports related articles but other than that I kind of avoid
it. The news depresses me and politics infuriate me so I avoid, avoid, avoid. Spending the week with my colleagues and
after various texts from family members I finally bit the bullet and typed the
deadly virus into the search engine. Initially I was concerned but not panicked. I wash my hands,I sneeze into my arm,I practice good hygiene this is nothing
more than the super-size flu.
Being one
of those individuals blessed with a racing brain that never stops my “spidey”
senses would kick in every time I heard the word “Corona” uttered. My concern rose to a new level as I sat
in the Atlanta Airport, waiting to board a plane home, watching our Vice President
explain the number of lives that had been lost in Washington State. Immediately
I became more conscious of what I touched, how close I got to people – The VP
had just said, “stay away from crowded, confined spaces” and here I was getting
ready to board a full flight where I was certain at least one out of every five people
were coughing. Cue first breakdown.
The bricks just kept tumbling from there. I returned
home and a different world emerged slowly before my eyes. Hospitals were no longer allowing us to
conduct meetings onsite, emails were flying through my Outlook in multiples
regarding this virus. I was meeting with Andy every day at 9AM and 4PM. People
in my own state were getting sick and the President was on every day at noon. Schools were closed, spring sports cancelled, dining in isn’t an option,
businesses are closed and social distancing is our new norm. All of that is not
what I am struggling with the most, what I am struggling with is this – for how
long? No one knows and that is scary. I was optimistic at first, a month
or two and we will be right back to it. But as the days go on and I watch our
world continue to break, I watch lives continue to end,social distancing
guidelines continue to escalate and I find it hard to find some type of
positive but I kept plugging along. Putting on a brave face for my
daughter, trying to ease her fears and
worries while not letting her see straight through me and realize that I,too
have those same fears and worries now. I
am mom, I am supposed to make everything better, I am supposed to fix
everything and this feels all too much like the first time a boy broke her
heart and all I could do was comfort her and try to distract her.
What brought me to my knees this week? A single
text. One sentence from my daughter that she sent as soon concluded a “Zoom
Class” with an English teacher that she loves to pieces. That text – “mamma I
just want to go back to school.” Nine simple words took the breath straight out
of me because I knew that it did not matter how I responded, I couldn’t ease
her worry. I threw some bullcrap motivational sentence back at her trying to
point out that this too shall pass, but I knew it wasn't enough. Hours later I still felt like I handled the
situation completely dreadful. I kept
trying to channel my “Inner Papaw”, I was trying to think back to some of the
things he would say to me back when he was still here on this Earth to calm
me. What would he think of the world
today? What would he say? I found myself wishing that he was here, I was home
sitting on the front porch with him, he would throw out some of his words of
wisdom and both Alex and I would walk away feeling so much better. I went to sleep with him on my mind and found
my sleep to be a little more peaceful that night but still left without the
right words.
I love my Granny, there is not a part of my childhood that doesn't involve her. Papaw calmed, Granny cared. I don't talk to her as often as I should, we exchange texts, I send her pictures of Alex and she is a big emoji fan but I wanted to hear her voice. The next morning we weren’t one minute into the conversation and I knew immediately what
the words were. As my grandmother and I
caught up on the news and life her voice brought me so much comfort and peace
as I told her about Alex’s text she told me “you tell Alex that she will be
fine, that she is a strong little girl and I know that because she has a strong
mommy.” I had always had the words, Papaw just had pointed me in the direction to them, he pointed me to the backbone of my childhood.
Once our conversation ended I was immediately taken back in time
fifteen years when it was my Granny that comforted and calmed me during what was one of
the hardest times of my life. I was eight months pregnant and laying in a bed
at Central Baptist Hospital. Due to my condition I had been hospitalized and
placed on bed rest two weeks before Thanksgiving. All I could do all day long
was read, watch TV and worry. Being alone in a hospital, left to only your own
thoughts is one of the scariest things. I couldn’t wait to meet the baby girl I
had been growing and I was scared to death thinking that would never happen or that I
had done something wrong and “messed” her up already somehow. I would have visitors
sporadically but I was two hours from my family and my friends and family that
were in town had kids and jobs so I understood that they couldn’t be there all
the time. At night, when I would lay
there all alone, I would just cry – and yes, I am sure the pregnancy hormones had
something to do with it too, but I would cry because so much was unknown and
this situation wasn’t something I could control. I wasn’t allowed to just get
up and walk down the hall or even out to get fresh air. I felt helpless and
that I had already failed my first task as a Mom.
I was so excited to see my Granny show up around 5 one
evening. I had no idea she was coming, I
hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks and words can’t describe the sense of peace
and comfort that came over me that day when I heard the click of that hospital
door and her face appeared. Of course she came bearing all the goodies she had
been known for my whole life – her famous homemade fudge, chex mix and her
smile. We sat,ate,laughed and watched TV all evening (Judge Judy and Law n Order were her favorites back then). My Grandmother slept that night on a fold out
chair beside my hospital bed to comfort me, to be strong for me and for the first time I felt like maybe I could
get through this,I just needed the strength she was lending me. The next morning, when I knew she had to go I tried with all of my
might to hold back the tears and keep my brave face in place. I watched her pack her bag up, sit the candy
and snack mix within my reach, hug my neck, kiss my forehead and tell me she
loved me before she started toward the door. Almost to the door she turned
around, wiped a tear from her face and said “Misty, it is okay to cry sometimes,
Granny cries sometimes too.” And with that she was gone.
Yesterday as I sat on my porch, reliving that memory, I realized that I have had the right words all along, I just needed reminded what they were. Although my situation back then and what’s going on in our world today aren’t identical they’re similar. Today I have a feeling of helplessness, a fear of the unknown just like I did that November day back in 2004, but today I carry that fear for a miniature version of myself too. It's my turn to be strong for my daughter and pass some of my strength to her the same as my Granny did to me that day. So each day as her anxiety grows and I try to be brave I will tell her that if she does feel like she needs to cry of if I feel like I need to cry – that’s what we will do. We will cry for the lives lost, those on the front lines, our leaders, our world, our families, our friends, our fears and the unknown because it is okay to cry sometimes, even Granny does it and she is the strongest person I’ve ever known.