To my mother Gloria R. Green
I don’t remember you ever saying anything personal about your mother. Like, I made her a card with rice on it when I was in elementary school for her. I never heard you say that the two of you would walk to the park or sneak ice cream from you 5 brothers.I never heard you say anything about giving her flowers etc.
You would say that grandmother always believed that you should always have your own, and wear clean underwear when you leave the house just in case you are in an accident. Strangers may have to see you. Always wear clean underwear.
When grandmother couldn’t take care of herself and moved in with us. It must have been hard for you. I was about 10 and Dee was about 8 years old. I remember you having to feed her, cut her hair and things like that. When a nurse would come over you would watch the nurse to make sure she does her job.
We hardly went anywhere because you didn’t trust too many people with her. Most people would have put her in a home. That didn’t seem to be an option for you. I don’t remember grandma when she could do for herself.
The night grandma stopped breathing, you told me to call Uncle Lawrence. I think he called 911. Since we lived on a dirt road. I had to run to the street and flag down the ambulance to find us.
They pronounce Grandma Jessie Hartsfield Robinson dead and they gave a time. When they started to head in her room with a gurney you said, Wait…wait…that’s my mother, may I please change her clothes? And finally they said yes.
You sat with your head in your hands for a minute the grabbed a wash cloth, soap and water went into her room and closed the door. We waited.
That must have been hard for you to do!
I can’t buy you anything this year. I would love to fly you and your friends hear to see the show or take them to a spa, nice dinner or something.
I’m also sorry that you don’t have any grandchildren. You have been great about not ever mentioning that. I’m happy anyway…if that counts.
Just wanted you to know that I pray, that in the event I am with you when it’s your "time" that I have the courage, the nerve and have myself together enough to tell the emergency people who don’t know how many piano, singing and acting lessons you have paid for.
These "people" who don’t know that you encourage others all the time, that they can be somebody.
That I will be the one to tell them…Wait…wait…that’s my mother.
LoVe Ya, Mom