Saturday morning July 25, 1998, I was leaving Brownsboro AL with Big Daddy returning to his home in Tennessee. I had spent that week with my brothers and sisters. It would prove to be the last time we five would all be together. James died the following Tuesday morning, July 28, 1998.
It was an interesting week spent with James. We all talked about the good old days. He asked each of us: “If you could go back to another time in your life – when and where would that be?’ As I recall, we both responded back to summers when we were kids and visiting Grandpa and the Uncles on the farm in Tennessee. We all recalled some time in our childhoods when we all five were still at home with the folks; before our life choices sent us across the country.
James was just 31 when he died. He had just found his dream job and dream lady. It seems unkind that he was not able to fulfill those dreams. Just a month before his death, his doctors told him there was nothing else they could do for him. It was only “a matter of time” before he would die. We were blessed that he was the same man right up until the moment cancer took him. I know the pain was excruciating but (as far as I witnessed) he was the same throughout his final days.
His focus (and perhaps this helped him in his struggle) was on others. The night before his surgery (his 30th birthday) he had gone to the bookstore with his girlfriend and purchased a book for each of us (Mother, Rita, Michael, Kay and I) to read while we waited in the hospital. For me, it was: “Neil and Me”. The story of a father, Scott (a sportswriter and author of both fiction and non-fiction) and his songwriting son, Neil Young (one of James' favorite singer/songwriters). James said: “It’s a story about family and how they get along. I think you will enjoy it.” He had specifically selected books that he thought would appeal to each us.
When Big Daddy and I left that Saturday morning, it was very difficult for him to say goodbye to James. He knew it would be the last time he would speak to him. Seeing his difficulty, James said to him: “Don’t worry, Dad. No matter what happens I’m going to be okay.” He tried so hard to encourage each one of us and here we were supposed to be encouraging him.
Time keeps rolling on, doesn't it? Perhaps life is only a matter of time. James received just shy of 32 years in this life. I could use that small amount of time to weigh me down in grief and disappointment. Or, I could use the time and life he lived to fuel me during my time in this life. James taught me a whole lot of about living as he was dying. We can get through anything time throws our way if we focus on lifting others up along the timeline of life.
I keep the following poem I wrote 23 years ago in my “Neil and Me” book:
Between James and Me
During his thirty-one years the gap between became smaller.
Calendar pages show ten years between James and me.
Why can’t I remember life without him?
I close my years and he is in my arms, as we rock
And I sing: “Won’t you let me go down in my dreams
And rock-a-bye, Sweet Baby James.”
I hear the pat of his feet as he runs through the house.
I lift him in the air to help him run the bases
In our neighborhood ball games.
I see his scratchy doodles become beautiful portraits.
I see the pesky little boy become a thoughtful young man.
I see him successfully his hit aims.
It seems like only a moment ago that we played in
Grandpa’s creek and slid down the corn in the crib,
And waited for the peddler man to come.
Oh, how blessed I have been. We could have been just kin
But, I also got to call him my good friend –
That’s between James and me.