68,800,640 Seconds Ago

Have you ever heard the sound that comes from the belly of a mother who has just learned her child has died? I’ve been writing in some form or another since I was a small child so my vocabulary is broad. I do not, however, and likely never will know of a word that is effectual enough to describe that sound. I heard it on December 9, 2017, around 1:36 P.M. from a source that I never expected to hear it from — my sister.

We don’t know exactly what time my 41-year old nephew died that December morning, but when he was found shortly after 12:00 P.M. that day, he was still warm. He had invited a homeless friend to live with him who confirmed that they had stayed up until about 4:00 that morning, drinking and talking. I had exchanged texts with him until about 11:30 the night before and not at any point did he say he felt ill. We would later learn that he had succumbed to a heart attack, secondary to hypertension.

As a matter-of-fact, I spoke to him for what would be the last time the afternoon of December 8th when he called me. His car was running hot and he needed anti-freeze. He had tried to call his mom, my sister, but couldn’t reach her. That last call was brief. It’s amazing the things you remember in the aftermath of tragedy. I remember like it was yesterday that he called at exactly 2:16 P.M.

One Last Time

I was sitting at my desk and when I saw it was him calling, I answered with, “Hey, Big Sexy…” Our nicknames for each other were Big Sexy and Sexy. Right away, I could tell he was in a hurry. I knew he had to be on the clock at International Paper at 2:30 so I didn’t start the foolish banter that was usual for us. He said, “Trease, can you tell my mama I need some anti-freeze? My car is running hot. I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer.” I said, “Okay. I’m going to get Mia as soon as I get off.” In his hurry, he said, “Okay, I gotta get in and clock in. Tell her to leave it on the backseat.” I said, “Okay, I’ll text you when I get there.” He said, “Alright” then hung up. That was the last time I heard his voice.

That Long, Long Ride to Dallas

I called my sister right away and she said she would take the anti-freeze to him. Come 5:00 P.M., I hit the road to Dallas. I had not been driving 15 minutes when a panic attack hit…