(Lincoln County, West Virginia: August 1931)
My dad worked harder than anyone else I knew. Life on the farm wasn’t easy, but he always wore a smile through the most tiring of days. Daddy always kept his joy, and never wanted us to feel ashamed of who we were. He never made a big deal over small incidents. This was why I knew something was wrong and had been for the past three months. He grew more tired with each passing day and developed a nasty cough, which I had never heard before.
As I woke up on that hot summer morning, I could see Daddy tucked in bed, with mama rearranging the covers. She looked worried. I could feel my heart pounding. Della, the oldest of us, strolled past me and headed over to where mama was. Their conversation lasted several minutes. Mama leaned over, placed a reassuring kiss on Daddy’s cheek, and left without a word. Della walked over once she saw Will and me.
“What’s the matter with Daddy?” Will asked, concerned.
“We don’t know, but he’s not doin’ well. Mama went to find the doctor,” she replied, her voice a bit edgy. The three of us glanced and saw the rest of our brothers coming to join us in the room facing the man we loved most, sensing this wouldn’t end well.
What’s going on?
There were very few doctors who would come to a poor farm. Daddy often joked about how the only doctors we could count on were the honest ones. They were the only ones willing to take what a farmer could afford to pay. Sometimes that was in the form of produce, milk, eggs, or pies. Even though city folk had the better doctors, they were a “dishonest bunch". So who got the better deal? Daddy would ask with a wink. That joke made me laugh every single time he told it.
“Melda, run and get me some water! Hurry!” Della shouted as Daddy took a frightening coughing fit. I ran to the pump for water. My other sisters dropped the clothes they were washing in the metal tub outside,
“Here,” I said, bringing the water over. I poured it into a nearby cup, my hand shaking as I passed it to her. Daddy coughed once more and pain surfaced on his face. My heart ached for him.
“You kids don’t have to look so scared. I’m doin’ fine.” Daddy spoke in a strained voice, trying to reassure us. “Your mama will be back with the doctor soon, don’t you worry.” Daddy didn’t want us to live life in fear, but in contentment. It wasn’t easy, especially now. We were all afraid, including him, though he tried his best to hide it. Minutes seemed like hours before we saw mama return with a doctor. Mama sat down in a nearby chair while the doctor examined daddy, whose coughing continued. He was struggling to breathe.
“I’m Doctor Wood, it’s a good thing you asked me to come,” He looked at mama grimly. “Your husband is very ill and will not recover. I give him three to six months if that.” The color drained from mama’s face.
“Why? Is there no cure?” she asked, her voice beginning to crack. Within seconds, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her shoulders began to slump as she grew inconsolable. Dr. Wood placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“He’s been fighting this for a while without the care of a doctor. The state he’s in leads me to believe he has advanced lung disease. There is no treatment that I can offer. I would make him as comfortable as possible.” He studied her expression. Mama’s face read of a broken woman. It was wet with tears, and her eyes filled with the pain of knowing that there was nothing she could do. “I apologize, Ma’am. I wish there was more I could do.” With that, he turned toward the door casting a defeated glance. “Call me whenever you need me.”
Life began to change as daddy’s health continued to worsen. We took turns caring for the man who once took care of us. In a matter of a few weeks, daddy became a frail shell of himself. He lost his once hearty appetite, along with the jolly glow he always wore. The love our mother cherished most and the man we loved as daddy was slipping away. We were losing a piece of our family. Every night she prayed with him as he drifted off to sleep. I began to pray too, along with my siblings. We hoped things would turn around.
It was a warm August day when mama rode to get the doctor to assess daddy. He started to drift in and out of consciousness. The shortness of breath made him so weak. Mama woke us up early to say our goodbyes. She knew that there was nothing that could save him. His illness progressed to a level that only death would spare him further pain and struggle. Why would God let this happen to someone I love? We all prayed. Wasn’t that enough?
Daddy died before mid-afternoon that day. It was a moment that would change things forever.
We lost our daddy and our mother lost her precious husband. John and Sylvia Slack were a great portrait of true love. From that moment, bitterness began to grow in my heart. I couldn’t understand why someone so loving had to die in such a painful way.
Mama and I were never much for heart-to-heart talks. We never felt the need to express ourselves to each other. Sewing was the way we bonded as mother and daughter. As I began to angrily work with my thread and needle, I noticed mama watching me. After a few minutes, she placed her hand over mine to stop me from poking myself with the needle. She placed the clothing she was working on off to the side.
“Melda, what’s the matter?” she asked, waiting for an answer. Mama could always tell when one of us kids needed to talk, and all we had now was each other.
“I don’t know,” I said, tears suddenly springing to my eyes. “I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t know why God didn’t spare Daddy.”
“I miss him too,” she replied, reaching over to hug me. “I don’t understand it, but that’s where our trust in the Lord comes in.” She held me as I buried my face in her chest. Our voices woke up everyone. They all gathered around. None of us were sleeping well these days.
“ I want to tell y’all somethin’, the Lord will take care of us. Things will be harder around here, but we have to trust Him.” Her soft voice held a sense of compassion as she eyed each of us, her brown eyes looking sincere. She loved the Lord and knew that He would take care of our needs. She wanted to raise her children to know and trust in Him through every part of life. They needed a strong example of what faith could do. “I need you all to help out more with no belly achin’. We will have to make money whatever way we can.” Mama knew that as a family, we couldn’t rely on our own understanding. We would need to lean on Him.
Mama looked worn out but the determination in her spirit rang out loud and clear. It amazed me that she stayed so composed. I would never be over daddy’s death, not for a long time. I trusted mama. I trusted her words. I knew her will to fight would somehow make things okay. I lost the best example of love that I knew. I would have to learn to somehow have courage even through the darkest of times, just the way mama did.
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
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