This weekend should be a celebration for Mother's Day. I love my mommy, Delores Gilbert so very much. She's the best mommy I could have ever hoped to have. She's put up w/me for 44 years and thankfully, I haven't driven her crazy as of yet. So, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY mommy!
Unfortunately, May 7th & 8th are the saddest days of every year for me. My heart wrenching sadness that comes with these two days began 15 years ago. Yesterday, May 7th would have been my mommy, Delores Belcher Jett Gilbert and my daddy, Burgess Jett's 50th Wedding Anniversary. They didn't get to celebrate it. Daddy did make sure though, that they made it through their 35th anniversary. You see, my daddy developed cancer. No one in the rest of his Jett family had any history of cancer but daddy got it anyway. Maybe from the water, maybe from all the years of spraying chemicals on his tobacco crops, or maybe just because God decided that was the path on which he would travel to go home to our Father in Heaven. Regardless of the reason, after a six month battle with cancer my daddy passed away due to cancer fifteen years ago on May 08, 2001. Loss didn't stop there. Five years ago, last night, my husband and I lost our nephew in a tragic auto accident. The pain and loss surrounding these two dates, May 7th & 8th are incomprehensible.
That first weekend in May 2001 was the best daddy had experienced in quiet some time. He seemed to be rejuvenated with strength. I didn't realize at the time but this new spurt of energy he had was what people refer to when they say, "They get better right before they go". Yes, it's true! I've seen it with my own eyes. They do get better! Giving you and maybe them a false sense of hope. The entire weekend is cemented into my mind. People came and visited with daddy. He was sitting up, talking, joking and laughing. He was in such good spirits. I was so very happy! Parrish, my husband, mowed the grass with the push mower (which daddy wasn't able to do himself but wanted done), then rested and we then said our goodbyes to go back home. Daddy walked me to the door and I asked him to give me that look, the one he always gave me when I was in trouble. He didn't want to but for some reason I wouldn't hush. I said, "Come on. Give it to me one last time. I know you're not mad at me but let me see it one last time for old times sake". I guess my subconscious knew this was the last time I'd be seeing my daddy but my heart didn't. He finally gave in and made the look. I hugged and kissed him and we said goodbye to each other. That was the last time! The very last time, that I would ever hear my daddy speak. The last time he would look at me. The last time I would get a hug or a kiss from him. I knew but I didn't want to know. As a spoiled daddy's girl, I could not admit to myself it would be the last of me and daddy.
In the wee hours of the following morning daddy drifted off into a coma there at home on the farm. I couldn't believe it when we received the phone call that he was in a coma. The day before was too perfect for him to change so rapidly. However, that is the way goodbyes are sometimes. Daddy held on throughout the day of May 7th, 2001. He didn't go to Heaven on his and mommy's 35th wedding anniversary. He waited. Although, he couldn't talk, I believe he could hear us and was aware of the date and it's significant meaning. He waited until the evening of May 8th to finish up the long road he had been traveling. He used all of his strength to hold off on going home to be with his mommy, the rest of his family and our Father in Heaven. That day, May 08, 2001, was the worst day of my life.
I stayed away from my childhood home place as much as I possibly could after that day in 2001. Although my mommy was still there at the farm and experiencing her own pain from the loss of her husband (which I hope I never have to endure), I couldn't bring myself to visit without being forced to go. That, in itself, is awful. If I did have to go, like for Christmas or Thanksgiving, I showed up late and left as soon as possible. The joy and happiness of the holidays had disappeared and they still haven't returned. I lost parts of my heart, my life and myself on May 8th 2001 and nothing can bring them back.
I can't say fast forward to May 07, 2011 because the time passed at a snail's pace. But ten years later on May 7th, I asked my husband to go with me to the farm. I wanted mommy to know that I understood her loss and I wanted to visit daddy's grave. I couldn't have ever imagined how that day, a day on which I was trying to show strength, would end with such tremendous tragedy. I think maybe if my husband and I had stayed home and waited until the next day or went the day before things would be different. Then again, realistically nothing my husband nor I did could change what occurred that night.
After leaving mommy & my step-dad at the farm, Parrish & I decided make our trip a full circle....Monticello, Jackson, Lexington then back home to Monticello. My husband knew what a big step I had taken by going to the farm that day. He always tries to lessen my sadness so he took me to a place where I was always happy, my favorite restaurant Johnny Carinos. If nothing else, I would have a good meal, drink a Bellini, eat a piece of their mouthwatering chocolate cake with ice cream and chill out a little. Well, that did indeed occur but was short-lived.
We had not been gone from the restaurant five minutes, when my husband received a call regarding a bad wreck in Monticello. He was asked if he would be able to come work it. At the time, my husband was a longtime accident-reconstructionist and trooper with the Kentucky State Police. When he received the call Parrish said, "Gina & I are in Lexington and have just now started home". He had just driven to the on ramp to get onto Interstate-75 South. There was no way, we would be anywhere close to Monticello for a couple of hours. I do not remember which police department contacted him first, whether it was the Kentucky State Police, the Wayne County Sheriff's Office or the Monticello Police Department. I do remember, during our drive home, he was contacted several times to come work the two-vehicle motor vehicle accident (MVA). Each time his response was the same. He wasn't home.
Along the way home, we learned through the many calls he received that an accident reconstructionist was needed and there was a possible fatality. Parrish was one of only a few reconstructionists in the area, which is why he was being contacted. Finally, he was told that another reconstructionist would be coming from another part of the state. Still, we had gotten worried. We arrived home and without being there a total of five minutes, Parrish was called again. Neither of us could understand, since he had been told someone else would be working the wreck. Again, this call was concerning the wreck. Shockingly though, the content of the call was much different. This time, he was being asked the name of his nephew. Most people didn't realize that Parrish had more than one nephew. When Parrish asked which one the response that came from the other end of the phone changed our lives forever. It was the name of his younger sister's son, Ryan Cody Bell. There were two boys with the name Cody Bell. The officer was having to make sure which family was to be contacted. This time it was our family. Parrish said he would do the notifications to the family.
This accident claimed the lives of Ryan Cody and two of his good friends. These deaths happened in an instant when another vehicle crossed into Cody's lane hitting his car head-on. There was no time to say our goodbyes or prepare. Three lives were taken in a flash with only memories and questions of, "Why?"
Cody and the married couple with him were all young. They were good people. They had their entire lives to live. Yet, they were taken away. Cody had finished his first year of college that week. He was a manager at a restaurant that he had been working at since he was old enough to have a job. He was a Mason and a Shriner. He was a preacher and bus driver for his church. Ironically, he and the couple who were with him had only been gone from visiting an ill parishioner for a few minutes when the auto-accident occurred. There's nothing left but memories, heartache, wishes and questions.
So this weekend of Saturday, May 7th and Sunday, May 8th 2016, is filled with what would have been my parent's 50th wedding anniversary, the 15th anniversary of my daddy's death, the 5th anniversary of my nephew's death and Mother's Day. I'm thankful to still have my mommy, a wonderful step-dad, the rest of my family and my ever supporting husband. But I just don't have it in me to celebrate like most people. Death can take a long time or be as fast as lightning, either way those left behind die a little too.
