CityView Magazine

12 June 2021 FAMILY MATTERS Answering the call BY CL AIRE MULLEN My column in last month's issue was dedicated to mothers and all of the amazing things that they do. Oentimes, it seems that the matriarch of our families is the sun around which everyone and everything else orbits. For the first 19 years of my own life, that was most certainly true. As I read through all of the thoughtful " best thing" tributes that so many CityView readers submitted for their moms, it dawned on me that my dad did all of those things too. is month, we celebrate our fathers, and I would be remiss if I did not dedicate some sentiments of my own to the person who was the light in the darkness for his kids when the sun stopped shining and send wishes for a Happy Father's Day to all of the dads who are answering the call. lecture hall to the car to make the drive back to Fayetteville. My mama le this earth only several hours aer I got home. We all spent the days and months that followed learning how to re-route our lives without the matriarch of our family. I returned to school days aer her funeral, and my dad, then only 45 years old, was le to run a household, a medical practice and solo parent 17-, 14- and 11-year-old children. Over the years, when the topic of our mom's death works its way into conversation, well-meaning people like to say, "I bet you really had to become like a mom to your younger siblings." I always have to tell them that the God's honest truth is that was just not so and give credit where it is most certainly due. I distinctly remember calling home from college throughout my freshman year and always hoping Mama would be the one to answer the phone. It was usually aer suppertime, and I would dial my family's landline. With three younger siblings, ever-eager to take a call, and my dad almost always home from work by that time, there was a one in five chance that I'd luck out and hear her sweet Southern drawl on the other end. She'd recognize my cell number on caller ID, and exclaim, "Hey, my girl!" I wanted her to be the first to know about a good grade on a term paper, a pair of vintage cowgirl boots I'd scored for five bucks at the thri store in Carrboro or plans for a spring-break trip to the beach that my girlfriends and I were cooking up. She would listen to me yammer on, reply with genuine enthusiasm, and always, always tell me how much everyone back on Sugar Cane Circle missed me. I imagine as she sat on the kitchen barstool beside the wall-mounted phone and twirled the spiraled cord around her fingers, she was wistfully thinking of her own days as a co-ed in Chapel Hill, where she'd met my dad. She genuinely wanted to know every little detail of my life that I would disclose and didn't seem to mind that I very seldom stopped talking about myself long enough to ask much about what was going on with her. Even if what was going on with her was that she was battling breast cancer. On the occasions that Dad was the first to answer my call, we'd chat briefly about everyday happenings before I requested that he hand the receiver off to my mom. Looking back, I know that he was just as happy to hear from me, just as interested in the goings-on of my life, and wonder if it hurt my daddy's feelings that I saved all the exciting news or juicy details for her. I've thought a lot about why I used to do that. I loved my dad. He'd been a present and proud parent to me since the day I was born. And really, I think it all boils down to the fact that an 18-year-old young woman navigating life on her own for the first time just plain needs her mom. By my sophomore year at Carolina, the tone of my phone calls home began to change. Some nights, Mom answered and couldn't seem to talk for more than a few minutes. Sometimes Dad, in an effort that I imagine was almost impossibly difficult, roused some cheerfulness to inquire about how I was doing, and let me know that Mom was sleeping and unable to come to the phone. And then, one day in late September, I called to say hello, and my daddy told me it was just about time to come home to say goodbye. I'd planned to stay at school for the remainder of the week to try to get through a big exam, but as I sat in a Wednesday morning French class, I couldn't shake the overwhelming urge to get home that day. I walked straight out of the Just next month, my dad will marry a woman exactly like the one I have prayed he would find. She is a lot like him: steadfastly faithful to God and her family.

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