
I don’t think anything in this world scares me as much as the thought of losing my mama to death. Almost all my life, my closest family was Mama, her father Papa John, and me. Then Pa, my stepdad came along and then I married Budge. Mama, though, is the one who has always and forever been there whenever I needed her. She and I buried Papa John three years ago yesterday and tonight, Pa called me from the hospital ER. Mama had started having sharp, shooting pains in her chest. She was released four hours later, but it’s still shaken me down to my core. I was born with two parents, four loving grandparents and even four more wonderful great-grandparents. One by one over the last very few years, I’ve watched each of their caskets lowered into the ground. All I have left is Mama and my Budge.
Mama’s health is getting worse. She suffers from emphysema and some other breathing disorders and, ever since Papa John died, she’s not seemed to have had much will to fight on. I know the day is coming. Tonight’s scare was just a reminder of what lies ahead, but I have no idea how to prepare for it. Many, many things terrify me, but most things, like huge natural disasters, will at least leave me with others who understand what’s going on.
When Mama dies, it’ll just be me and my loss. I was ignorant of the pain of losing a loved one until I was well into my twenties, and maybe that’s just made it harder, but nothing that scares me even touches how I feel at the thought of watching my mama’s pink casket being lowered into the ground.
The worst part is, I can’t prepare, I can’t put it off, and I can’t know when that shoe is going to drop. All I know is, when the call comes, the funeral home may need to hold the hearse.

I don’t know where the roots of this gut wrenching terror I have of fire come from. I do know that when I was a child, my grandmother wouldn’t leave the house until she’d checked and rechecked the stove and the pilot light at least five times. Perhaps I picked up on her paranoia.
We sat through TV mini-series on “Life After the Mushroom Cloud” and “Nuclear Explosion!” and other such wonderful names. Here locally, we even had a show that dramatized a nuclear attack on Charleston Naval Base in the lower part of the state. Back then, I had nightmares about dying in a nuclear war. I still remember one very vivid dream to this day. I was standing in a field and saw a mushroom cloud in the distance, then I saw missiles coming out of the ground (silos maybe? I dunno, I was like nine years old) and streaking off into the distance. I woke up screaming, which scared the poop out of the rest of the kids on the field trip bus with me.