“Gie”
I just returned from the funeral, and I was going through my mail. There were several sympathy cards, and the usual junk. There in the middle was a letter from her.
Just a month before I had turned 19; I went to Fiddler’s. It was the third time and was quickly becoming a tradition. My parents came too (their first time); it was a nice treat to get to see them on my birthday. I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I’d ever see her.
The night before Halloween we talked on the phone, it was something we did most days. She told me about this party she was going to with Keith. I don’t remember what she was planning to wear, but she always did well with her costumes. I didn’t know it then but that would be the last time I’d ever talk to her.
It was early on 11/1. I don’t think we did much the night before. We probably went to a few haunted houses. Monica and I were sleeping in my dorm room bed.
Those dorm room beds were so small. They were barely large enough for one person, but somehow, if you were determined enough, you could fit another person in there with you. It wasn’t comfortable per say, but it was comforting.
There we lay sleeping, relatively early by college standards, 8ish, when the phone rang. I couldn’t tell you now who answered it, but it was for me. After that conversation, I’ve only eagerly waited for the phone to ring one more time, and that was for the next call. The call where I made him say it. The call where he said, “Jamie, we need you to come home,” wasn’t good enough. “What do you mean you need me to come home?” Of course, I knew, but I had to hear it out loud. “Momma died, Jamie, She’s dead.” After that call, I’ve never regarded the phone ringing as a good thing. For me, it is just another chance for someone to be gone; for another significant part of my life to end in an instant.
In the years that followed I’d often dream of her, and at some point in the dream I’d know, “you’re not supposed to be here.” It is always at the moment of realization that it all fades. I don’t want for you to go … not yet. In the end I am always grateful, grateful for a chance to see her one more time. The dreams are few and far between these days, and I miss them.
Momma, I miss you.
10 responses to ““Gie””
Well done. Very moving. Keep after the writing, it will pay dividends you can’t calculate.
Bob Humphrey says: Very moving — it took me a few times to get through it. I can only imagine how difficult it was to dig back into the details of that time, instead of burying it like so many of us do.
Was ‘Gie’ her name?
Her name was Angie. Gie was a nickname I gave her when I was in high school. It was a play on “what up, G,” which was popular slang back then.
karen says: Wow
Jen says: I can not imagine a phone call like that. Knowing what kind of person you are Jamie, she must have been an amazing woman.
-Jen
Will says: I still remember when you called me to tell me. I was living in Jacksonville at the time, and got out of the shower to answer the phone. You were just so frank about it, but then how are you supposed to tell someone news like that? You’ve never been one to dance around things, though. I miss her too. She was like a second mom to so many of us that hung out at your house. She was, by far, the biggest OTC ever had. She was an amazing, understanding, and accepting person. Don’t let yourself think, “You’re not supposed to be here.” She is, still. You know she will never really leave you. “No matter where I go she’s always there with me; no matter how far I go she will always shine down on me…”
Becky Bodner Paolozzi says: Wow, Jamie! What beautiful words for a beautiful person. Your mom was an amazing woman. I have so many wonderful memories of her. I know you miss her……
David says: That is really Beautiful, Jamie. However, now I’m crying at work. I remember Heather coming to the bannister at the Phi Tau House saying you were on the phone and she thought you were crying. I had never heard of that. I dropped the plate I was fixing (literally.. on the floor…) I think I already knew.
All I really remember sayingis that I would be there in 30 minutes. Probably the only time I’ve ever been on time – or early even. I miss her, too.
Gabe says: I loved her with all my heart. Angie was not only my non-maternal mother; she was one of the best friends I have ever had. Since I have moved backed to Anniston, I have taken several trips through the old neighborhood where Jamie and I grew up. Each time I pass by the old house, hundreds of memories fly through my mind. Memories of UNO, game shows, birds, victory cigarettes, and 25 cent antes. But my fondest memories which are also simple things that I still miss to this day are; conversations with Angie ranging anywhere from the meaning of life to what I am going to do today, sweat tea, hobo potato dinners, and just hanging out with my two best friends Angie and Jamie.
I had been by to see Angie two days before Jamie told me his mom had passed away. That day was pretty much like any other day. I sat on the love seat while she sat on the couch and we both talked as the $25,000 pyramid blared out of the television. That day I remember telling Angie about a book that I had just finished reading about Angels. We talked about how we were all put here for a purpose and once we fulfilled God’s purpose our time on earth would be over. I am not sure exactly what God’s purpose for Angie was, but I am sure thankful he brought her into my life.
Nancy says: She’s not completely gone, dear. She still lives in your heart, Jeromy’s, Grannie’s, your dad’s, and everyone who knew her. I know she made a tremendous impact on the lives of those who loved her and knew her the best. I never met her – and I regret that – but one thing I do know – she loved you and she would be very proud of you. Your mom’s presence is still very real; I’m glad you feel it as well. Cherish your memories of her and share them with those who care. Love you.
Well done. Very moving. Keep after the writing, it will pay dividends you can’t calculate.
Very moving — it took me a few times to get through it. I can only imagine how difficult it was to dig back into the details of that time, instead of burying it like so many of us do.
Was ‘Gie’ her name?
Her name was Angie. Gie was a nickname I gave her when I was in high school. It was a play on “what up, G,” which was popular slang back then.
Wow
I can not imagine a phone call like that. Knowing what kind of person you are Jamie, she must have been an amazing woman.
-Jen
I still remember when you called me to tell me. I was living in Jacksonville at the time, and got out of the shower to answer the phone. You were just so frank about it, but then how are you supposed to tell someone news like that? You’ve never been one to dance around things, though. I miss her too. She was like a second mom to so many of us that hung out at your house. She was, by far, the biggest OTC ever had. She was an amazing, understanding, and accepting person. Don’t let yourself think, “You’re not supposed to be here.” She is, still. You know she will never really leave you. “No matter where I go she’s always there with me; no matter how far I go she will always shine down on me…”
Wow, Jamie! What beautiful words for a beautiful person. Your mom was an amazing woman. I have so many wonderful memories of her. I know you miss her……
That is really Beautiful, Jamie. However, now I’m crying at work. I remember Heather coming to the bannister at the Phi Tau House saying you were on the phone and she thought you were crying. I had never heard of that. I dropped the plate I was fixing (literally.. on the floor…) I think I already knew.
All I really remember sayingis that I would be there in 30 minutes. Probably the only time I’ve ever been on time – or early even. I miss her, too.
I loved her with all my heart. Angie was not only my non-maternal mother; she was one of the best friends I have ever had. Since I have moved backed to Anniston, I have taken several trips through the old neighborhood where Jamie and I grew up. Each time I pass by the old house, hundreds of memories fly through my mind. Memories of UNO, game shows, birds, victory cigarettes, and 25 cent antes. But my fondest memories which are also simple things that I still miss to this day are; conversations with Angie ranging anywhere from the meaning of life to what I am going to do today, sweat tea, hobo potato dinners, and just hanging out with my two best friends Angie and Jamie.
I had been by to see Angie two days before Jamie told me his mom had passed away. That day was pretty much like any other day. I sat on the love seat while she sat on the couch and we both talked as the $25,000 pyramid blared out of the television. That day I remember telling Angie about a book that I had just finished reading about Angels. We talked about how we were all put here for a purpose and once we fulfilled God’s purpose our time on earth would be over. I am not sure exactly what God’s purpose for Angie was, but I am sure thankful he brought her into my life.
She’s not completely gone, dear. She still lives in your heart, Jeromy’s, Grannie’s, your dad’s, and everyone who knew her. I know she made a tremendous impact on the lives of those who loved her and knew her the best. I never met her – and I regret that – but one thing I do know – she loved you and she would be very proud of you. Your mom’s presence is still very real; I’m glad you feel it as well. Cherish your memories of her and share them with those who care. Love you.