The Life and Times of Jamie Lee Coleman by Michael E. Glasscock III

Author:Michael E. Glasscock, III
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626340459
Publisher: Greenleaf Book Group Press
Published: 2014-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Ihad avoided going to Joy’s grave. I knew before I left New Orleans that I would have to say good-bye to her one last time. I called Sam the day before I was scheduled to leave to get directions to the cemetery.

New Orleans cemeteries are unique. Some date back to the 1700s, and most contain above-the-ground crypts because of the high water table. And there is always the threat of flooding.

I took a streetcar to the cemetery and found Joy’s grave from a map supplied by the onsite business office. Sam had kept it simple. The inscription stated:

Joy Ledford

A true joy to all who knew her.

1946–1968

I sighed and placed the flat of my right hand on the marble. “I miss you so much,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “How will I ever live without you?”

My eyes filled with tears and I dropped to one knee, still holding onto the marble. I stayed in that position for a full fifteen minutes, my shoulders shaking as sob after sob racked my body. Finally, I collapsed onto the grass, my head bowed as much as my neck would allow, and continued to sob.

An hour later, I stood and kissed her name in the inscription. “Good-bye, my love. I will carry you in my heart till the day I die.”

* * *

I’d planned the trip carefully. I’d said good-bye to Sam, Axelrod, and Casey, my New Orleans family, on the evening before I left. And I bought a coach ticket on American Airlines from New Orleans to Nashville. The plane arrived in time for me to take a taxi from the airport to the Greyhound terminal on Murfreesboro Road. The bus trip to Cookeville took two hours. I’d called Amy, and she picked me up on the square. She was a senior in high school. I hadn’t talked to her since that one phone call when I found out that my father was alive.

When I stepped down the bus stairs, I saw Amy sitting in a four-door 1965 Olds 88 parked at a meter. I walked to the driver’s door, and Amy lowered the window. “Hi, stranger, long time no see,” she said with a grin.

“It’s been a while. You look great, girl. I like your hair short like that. Makes you look sophisticated.”

She was wearing contacts. No more horn-rimmed glasses. She was dressed in jeans, penny loafers, and a Tennessee Tech tee shirt, which she filled out nicely. Her green eyes looked me over from head to toe. Then she smiled. “I’ve missed you, Jamie. God knows I was worried sick till you called me. I still can’t believe you ran away. It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Nice car.”

“It’s a hand-me-down from my mother. You look different somehow. I can’t put my finger on it,” she said.

“A lot has happened to me in that time.”

“Tell me about it,” she said.

I told her about my trip to New Orleans, leaving out my problem with Dwayne the truck driver.

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