Chapter Thirteen | The Call
Some calls don’t give you time to prepare.
They pull you into a moment where love, duty, and fear collide, and all you can do is answer.
Over the years, Rodney and I did our best to stay connected. Life pulled us in different directions, but the bond never disappeared — it just stretched, thinned, and waited. When he became sick, he insisted his children hide the truth from me. He didn’t want me worrying. He didn’t want me rushing over. He didn’t want to be a burden.
They honored his wishes until they couldn’t anymore.
It was around Christmas.
I was out shopping when the call came.
My heart dropped.
I abandoned everything I was doing and rushed to Lincoln Hospital. When I walked into his room, he was alert, talking, looking like nothing was wrong. For a moment, I let myself believe it. We caught up, laughed a little, and for a brief moment, it felt like the years hadn’t changed anything.
But the attending physician shattered that illusion.
Rodney’s condition was extremely serious.
He was deteriorating fast.
He needed constant support.
I knew I couldn’t leave him.
And I wasn’t alone — even if it felt that way at first.
My sister Tracie, my backbone, was thousands of miles away on active duty in the Army. We couldn’t reach her. No one could. Days passed with no contact, and the weight of everything fell squarely on my shoulders. I handled what I could — the hospital conversations, the updates, the decisions — but I kept thinking, I need my sister.
When we finally located her through the Red Cross, the hospital had to complete emergency paperwork to bring her home. She spent two days hitching rides on military cargo planes — exhausted, anxious, determined. By the time she reached my apartment, she collapsed on my couch and slept almost an entire day.
She had missed Rodney’s last moments of consciousness.
But she hadn’t missed her purpose.
When she woke up, we moved like we always had — instinctively, as a team.
I handled the business side:
his job, his union, his house, the logistics no one else could manage.
Tracie handled the financials, the burial arrangements, the paperwork — the things that required a steady mind and a strong heart.
My other two sisters were present, but they didn’t have the emotional structure Tracie and I shared. Without her, I could not have carried all of it alone.
Even before she arrived, I felt her strength.
Once she landed, I wasn’t standing alone anymore.
I walked into that hospital alone, but by the time the weight of it settled, Tracie was beside me — and together, we stepped into the hardest chapter of our lives.
