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who worked in white homes.


The hardest and saddest day of my relationship with Grandma came on the day that my father passed away.  When Dad suffered his first heart attack I rushed from Virginia to be by his side.  His physician assured me the heart attack was minor and full recovery was expected.  So after            a week I returned to Hampton.  When my mother called me a week later to inform me of Dad's second heart attack she also intimated that she believed that he was brain dead.  A sudden calmness came over me and I did not rush this time.  I pulled out my Army dress blue uniform, got it in order and went down into the basement of my home and played Aretha Franklin's Amazing Grace album for about three hours. 


Upon my return to Alabama, it was obvious that my mother had been right in her observation.  At about 11 a.m. Monday, May 9, 1977, I nodded permission for the hospital to disconnect my father from life support machines.  After comforting my mother, sisters, and nieces, I headed to Jenifer for what I knew would be my life's toughest task.  Grandma was 75 years old, this was her only child, and chief source of support.  Although my father had existed on life support for more than a week, she was not ready to let go. 


Anger, denial, all of the stages of her grief was extremely severe.  By Thursday, she had recovered enough to provide some strange input into the planning of Dad's homecoming celebration.  Grandma threw out a couple of strange names to be listed as aunts.  When asked to explain, she merely clamed up.  Here we go again, Mother and Grandma talking in circles and at each other instead of to each other.  Finally, Dorothy Boyd stepped in and suggested that we go generic on the aunts (Dot could always "work it" in situations like that) and we somehow got through it


The funeral was a blur.  Between Grandma's devastating agony and my mother's poor health, I breathed a sigh of relief right after Grandma finished cursing Ervin (the funeral director) out.


Grandma's will to live seemed to fade after that.  We brought her to Atlanta to live with us but it never worked out.  I don't know who told Grandma that it was I that gave permission to take my father off life support and I don't think she ever completely forgave me for it.


Again, Dorothy Boyd stepped in and took her aunt into her home and ministered to her during the last months of her life.  I am truly grateful for Dot's generosity and compassion.  In closing, I feel more than blessed to have had such a wonderful grandmother and look forward to seeing her in glory.


Bennie Boyd



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