Grand "e;Ma"e; (eBook)
141 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-88627-739-5 (ISBN)
Carol Morris is the owner of a mini call center, a customer service representative, and now first-time author from Memphis, Tennessee. She is a devoted mother-of-three, wife, grandmother, aunt, cousin, sister and friend who has been a part of the 'village' that raised many children who are now adults living their own lives. She currently lives in Richton Park, Illinois, and, with her husband, is raising three of her granddaughters. Now, she is stepping out to tell the story of how she came to be a part of those villages, detailing the life she has lived and what makes her, like many women in this world, 'A Grand 'Ma''.
Born in Senatobia, Mississippi, and raised between her birth town; Memphis, Tennessee (her hometown); and Chicago, Illinois (where she and her family would permanently reside), Carol Morris began thinking from a young age about the mother she would be. Seeing the mothers around her- having children while being children, continuing to do so until they were having babies next to their babies, scarred by the lack of respect it really seemed most men had for their bodies- motherhood seemed almost like a certain doom. Everyone around her had essentially the same advice; it's coming, so get ready. As a mother of 3 before 25, she was determined to shield her children from the nightmares of her childhood, and show them the nurturing and safe home that she had yearned for. It was far from easy, but she intended to do her best, regardless. So she pressed on, relocating or rearranging as necessary to accommodate the three little people who were her greatest responsibility. Pain, grief and loss came like grenades, one after the other with no warning. Motherhood is a test of everything, but for her, those little faces made all the struggles worth it. So she pushed. All three of her children became high school graduates, and at least launched into the workforce. Over 30 years into motherhood, Carol and her husband finally feel like they are able to plan for when their nest has been cleared when another bomb hits the family. Mornica, her oldest daughter, died in a tragic and brutal course of actions by her husband, who also ended his own life. After losing her eldest child, as a grandmother nearing her 50s, Carol was thrust into motherhood once again, to raise the little girl her daughter left behind. This little girl and her first cousin a little boy born to Carol's second child in December of 1999, Carol's oldest grandchild graduated high school about 15 years later. And of course, it was in the cards that she began the cycle again with 3 of her granddaughters shortly after. With the nest overcrowded, the little people began to look around to all the faces framed on the walls and ask questions. The bigger ones begin to look back and gain perspective with momentum. It dawns on Carol that this journey of hers is remarkable. And she's decided to tell it.
What I Remember and Cannot Forget
I recall that day with crystal clarity. It was simultaneously one of the best and worst days of my entire life; the day my time as the mother of my eldest child ended, and my time as a new mother began all over again.
It is Sunday, December 15, 2002: cloudy, cold, and rainy. We lay around watching every Dora the Explorer episode imaginable. Occasionally, Dejah asks me, “Where is my mom?” I say, “She will be here soon.” I must have made fifty phone calls that day. As the night came, I made my last phone call then put her down for the night. Neither one of us slept well that night. About five a.m. Monday morning, I jumped up from bed and immediately began calling Mornica and Charles’s phones. There was no answer. As a matter of fact, they both went straight to voicemail. I became a nervous wreck. It was so unlike her. I called Mike, he answered in his normal Illinois Department of Transportation greeting, “IDOT,” but before he could get it out, I said, “I have called both their phones and they are going to voicemail.”
He replied, “Just wait until she is supposed to be at work.”
This angered me. I know he was just trying to keep me from overreacting, but this was serious, and something was telling me that I was right to react the way I did.
I hung up the phone as he was saying, “Keep me posted.”
The hands on the clocks were not moving fast enough that morning. My nerves overtook me as all these intrusive thoughts invaded my mind. It was like she was speaking to me,
“Momma, I am alright,” It’s like I was at war with my own thoughts because in my head, she was not. I kept thinking, “She is not alright... Maybe Mike is right; maybe they are sleeping in. But she always checks in; this is not like her. Mornica what is going on? This is not like you, please just call me.”
The doorbell rang at six a.m. as it usually would have on a Monday morning; it was my sister, Joyce, with her granddaughter.
As I opened the door, I anxiously said, “Good morning, I have not heard from Mornica since Friday, it is not like her.”
She looked right into my eyes and proceeded to suggest unapologetically that, “If it had been Sequoia, you would have raced to her apartment.”
I could not argue. Everyone knew that Sequoia would leave and not return for days which always caused me to worry, but I did not have the energy to explain why. I thought, “It’s not about Sequoia. Mornica is on my mind, and not knowing if she is alright is killing me.”
I let some time pass. I looked at the clock at about eight a.m., and I knew that Mornica should be situated at work. I was so confident that she had been with her husband at the hospital to make sure that his mother was okay. She had been admitted a week before.
I dialed her boss’s work number.
“Cigna, this is Adam,”
“Hi Adam, this is Mornica’s mom, I am calling to see if Mornica has made it to work this morning?” I continued to explain, “I have been trying to reach her and her husband all weekend and have not had any success, and can you tell me if she is at work?”
“Oh no, I have not seen her nor heard from her, I will have her call you when she gets here.”
I let out a long sigh, “Okay, thank you, I am going to her place as soon as we hang up.” “I will call and let you know what my findings are. Thank you.”
I frantically called Mike one more time in a panic to let him know what had transpired with all my calls. He was so calm and kept to his suggestion, to “just wait,” suggesting that “Maybe they both were sleeping.” It was as if my heart wanted to jump out of my chest. All I wanted to hear him say is that he was on his way home. That did not happen.
The voices in my head just would not leave me alone. “She is alright, she is alright… No! She is not alright! He has done something to her I know he has; I just know it.... Maybe Mike is right, they may have wanted to stay home. She is grown… No, No! She would have let me know something.” To tell you the truth, I trusted her and did not feel I needed to run to her house, so I just sat and waited.
In the interim, Joyce had called my niece and her husband, who lived about two or three minutes away, to take me to Mornica’s apartment. They lived in the small township of Steger, Illinois, in The New Colonies Apartments. It was apparent that Joyce had assumed that I was in no condition to drive myself. She was correct. Upon our arrival, I noticed both of their cars parked in their rightful parking spaces. I said to Tonie and Dell, “They are home. Both cars are parked.” Tears started welling up in my eyes and I could barely breathe, my thoughts were racing, what do I do, what do I do, oh God, let her, let them be alright. I called the office.
“Good morning… How can I help you?”
“My name is Carol Morris; I am Mornica Pate’s mother. Mornica lives at 300 West 34th Street, Apartment 201. I have been trying to get in touch with her since Sunday morning. I have not seen or heard from her nor her husband since Friday. But both cars are parked in their assigned parking spaces. No one is answering their phones and they are not answering the door.”
“Okay Mrs. Morris, I have her rental agreement and you are listed as an emergency contact, but can you call the police and ask for a well-being check?” And she also said she would meet the police at the apartment. The police and the complex manager arrived at the same time. I jumped out of the car; she had keys and started toward the apartment. We all followed; I felt as if I was floating outside of my body as we walked up the stairs to Mornica’s apartment. The manager opened the door and I rushed in. I got a quick glimpse down the hallway and looked straight through the threshold of Dejah’s bedroom. Mornica was stretched out on the floor, and Charles was sitting in the doorway, his head hung without any movement. I immediately ran towards them. When the officers saw that I was trying to go to my daughter he yelled, “Stay back!” But I was determined and as I maneuvered my way into the living room the officer jumped right in front of me and yelled, “Come get her out of here!” It was only then that I realized he was asking for me to be removed from the apartment. It was now a crime scene. I don’t remember much after this, but I think my nephew and niece held me back. I was still shaking and crying profusely. They escorted me back to the parking lot and as we were walking, I could hear people talking on their cellphones, saying, “Charles has killed Mornica and himself!”
I fell to the black top pavement of the parking lot and screamed out as reality slipped away from me. I wanted it all to be a bad dream, a nightmare that I was hopeful someone would come along and awaken me. “Please, officers assure me that that was not my child laid in her blood!”
The officers appeared emotionless as they explained, “This is a crime scene.” They suggested that there was no need for us to hang around and that we go to the police station to give a statement.
Since Mike had not made it to the apartment, I called him, screaming,
“She is dead, he killed her! I know he did, I just know it!”
I could not close my eyes without seeing my daughter and her husband lying on the floor lifeless; I needed to be home. My mind was racing from fear. I kept saying to myself, this is a dream, it must be a dream. I had my niece call and check on my granddaughter. Then Tonie and Dell drove me to the police station.
After arriving at the police station, I noticed that some family and friends had gathered there. They had come with words of comfort, but I would not allow myself to be comforted. The pain was too deep. I was feeling conflicted, sad, and grieving but not having the time to grieve or worry because I had a little one to raise now.
Then, an officer immediately began asking questions.
“Name?”
“Address?”
“Victims’ names?”
“Victims’ address?”
“Relationship to victims?”
“When was the last time you had contact with the victims?”
Every time he asked me a question I could hardly breathe. He went on to say that we would be contacted once the investigation was completed and the victims were picked up and taken to the Will County Coroner’s office.
Mike and I rode home where I found Sequoia, my daughter, and Marcus, my son, waiting for me. I fell into their arms. I held them close. My head was pounding, my heart was racing, and my eyes felt as though they were dry and unwilling to allow me to shed another tear. I just wanted to lie down but I was afraid to do so for fear that I would reach the reality that I had just lost my firstborn child. Joyce stood at the kitchen sink peering at us with dismay. She could not possibly know what to say except that she was so sorry.
“Carol, I have made dinner for the kids, and I am going to get Zi’Ana from the bus when school gets out, do you need me to do anything else?” She also gave me a list of people that had called.
I took the list and said, “No, I am just tired and need to lie down.”
“Then I will settle everyone down and when Quita gets here, I am going to head home.”
“Okay, we are just waiting for the coroner...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 5.6.2024 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Gesundheit / Leben / Psychologie ► Familie / Erziehung |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-88627-739-5 / 9798886277395 |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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