A Celebration of My Father

Today, I am grateful for my earthly father, Bobby Bembry, who shaped my life through the wisdom he shared. Some of the things he said seemed funny and hard to figure out like, “You can’t lead a goat to water because you can’t make him drink. You can make a horse drink but a goat’s going to do what he wants to do” and “You don’t leave a dead dog in the road. It just stinks.” Both statements, as well as many others he would make, are profound. The goat statement tells us some people will never change and it’s not our job to make them change. There are a couple of thoughts in the second hidden gem: first, we don’t need to put all of our personal business out there for everyone to see and run over; second, we need to clean up any problems we have before they get us run over by cars or eaten by buzzards.

Today, my daddy would have been celebrating his 84th birthday. I am thankful God put him in my life to help mold me into the man I am today.

My father, seated, surrounded by, from left to right: my youngest sister, Abbie; myself; and my brother.

Elegy for Mama

Today, I am grateful for the wonderful woman God gave me to be my mama and my friend. Twenty-one years ago today, my mother left this earth and entered into the realms of Glory. I remember the battle to keep her here as I was told by my friends, Rob Covell and Lori Williams, who worked for Madison County EMS, and by Dr. Adolfo Dulay. I appreciate everything they did, but God had other plans for my mother and he allowed her to go Home. She had a hard life, losing three of her precious children, who she was reunited with. Although many times I wish she was still here, so I could share a problem I have with her, or to share a moment of happiness, I know that I would never want to remove her from her place of Joy. She is in the presence of the Lord.

Tara: An Essay in Beauty and Class

 

“Oh Jacob. That is so special. I adore you. You are one of God’s gifts too. Thank you for being a friend to me. It means more than you know.”  Tara Burtchaell, May 2, 2019

I didn’t know it at the time, but I would also speak to Tara (a friend from my days at Florida State University) via social media once more. Six months and five days later, she would be dead. Death sometimes can play cruel games with the living and I didn’t discover my beautiful friend’s fate until this past Saturday, January 4, 2020. That is the day a celebration of life service was held in her memory at Peachtree Road United Methodist Church in Atlanta. Of course, life can sometimes appear to be cruel, and, amid all those in-between months, I was busy as my brother had one massive heart attack in July, and another four days after Tara was ushered into Eternity. During this turmoil, a childhood friend and the valedictorian of my senior class, passed away. I guess it can be overlooked that I hadn’t checked in on Tara more.

The conversation I had with Tara that evening had been shortly after the death of her mother. Tara absolutely doted on her mother and had sat by her side during her illness. She was distraught over her death and told me she was struggling with the loss. I shared with her that I had lost both of my parents, and that I care for my brother and sister, Abbie Gail, who has developmental disabilities. I explained how Abbie has been like a daughter to me, although she is only six years younger. That is why she responded the way she did during the conversation.

For all intents and purposes, Tara and I should have never been friends. She came from class. I was a dirt-poor farm boy. She was beautiful. I was just me. Tara and I would go to plays together, and occasionally, to dinner or lunch together, but it was always as just friends, although I had the biggest crush in the world on her.
Miles, years, and circumstances separated us. She left and went to New York City before she returned to her home in the Atlanta area. I settled in the north Florida area to a life that was nowhere near as exciting as hers.

Tara went on to work on and produce such TV shows as Good Eats with Alton Brown, Dancin’ the Dream and Dance Crash with Brandee Evans. My favorite work she produced and wrote was a cartoon based on the Elf on the Shelf books titled Elf on the Shelf: An Elf’s Story.

I wish life had afforded me the opportunity to talk more with Tara. I wish I had known her more than I did. She was such a beautiful person. More Important that that, she was a kind person.

Through the Fog

Three years ago, I began writing a book about being a caregiver for my sister. The book still hasn’t been finished and it’s shifted to not only being about Abbie, but also about Danny and my attempts to help care for them and provide for their needs. For so long, I have attempted to care for my family but time after time, I find they care for me. I once dreamed of a day when I can make enough money editing and writing to pay off our house, our car, provide food, and other necessities and be able to live stress-free. Maybe I will, but even if I never do, I know God is always good to me and my family. Below is the original beginning of the book I began about Abbie:

Through the Fog

A heavy fog blanketed the roadway on a misty morning. As my low beam headlights cut through the fog, I began wondering about my sister, Abbie, and more specifically, about the way she thinks.

I wondered if her thoughts were foggy, and that made it more difficult for her to be dependent, as a mentally-challenged individual. I wondered that, if sometimes, when I see her smile because she has had an epiphany that her low beam highlights had not increased with a flick of the switch or a tap of the toe to full brightness.

I often wonder how Abbie’s mind works. Since it is a rare occasion that she ever speaks, there are many questions that I ask her that go unanswered unless the answer to the questions comes through body language – a smile, a frown, a shrug of the shoulders, shaking her hands in frustration, tapping her fingers on the top of her head because she has a headache, or touching her finger to her forehead to indicate she is thinking about the question that I asked.

People often ask how I communicate with my younger sister. I tell them that it’s hard to explain, but that, if you have been around her as often as I have, you learn to pick up on her non-verbal cues and facial expressions.

Maybe others do not see my sister the way that I do, but I see her as a genteel, Southern lady, a “steel magnolia” – “Gentle as the sweet magnolia/Strong as steel, her faith and pride/She’s a everlasting shoulder/The leaning post of life…” (Lyrics from “Eagle When She Flies,” written by Dolly Parton). Abbie has the gentlest heart of anyone I know, yet she is strong-willed and strong-minded. When she is soft, she reminds me of my mother, and the character played by Darryl Hannah in the movie, “Steel Magnolias.” When she is strong-willed and strong-minded, she reminds me of the character played by Shirley MacLaine in “Steel Magnolias” and the character played by Jessica Tandy in “Driving Miss Daisy.” Sometimes, I think she is going to look at my brother, Danny, or me, in a combination of a strong-willed and soft-hearted moment when she has had us do her bidding, and proclaim like Miss Daisy did to her driver, “Hoke, you’re my best friend.”

As the rain falls outside my window, and I hear the pitter-patter of it to the ground, I give thanks that God has given me Abbie for a sister. Some may see my work with her as a challenge, but, for me, it is a great opportunity, and one, for which I will always be grateful. I will wander through the fog with Abbie until the end of my days.