Bad Things Happen In Threes, They Say

After my debacle of a shift at work on Friday, I discovered Saturday that our dear next door neighbor from Georgia had lost his fight with cancer. I went to work today and my cell phone rang soon after walking in the door. It was my sister calling to tell me our cousin had been discovered already gone from this life by her daughter this morning when she went for a visit.

They say bad things come in threes, so certainly hope I'm done for a while.

I knew our former neighbor had been battling cancer for some time. He was diagnosed shortly after we moved to Florida.

Mr Lee, who I always afffectionately called slowLee and his wife lived next door to us for at least ten years. When they moved in, both were already well into their sixties. They only had a push mower and after watching Lee cut their cut grass the first time on a hot humid JawJa day, immediately took over his yard work with my trusty Johnny Dear. He would stand out front the entire time, leaning on the bed of his gigantic dually pickup, watching me. The man never wore a shirt in summer when at home. He was as brown as a berry and always wore his Jesus sandals and white gym shorts which looked to be from the early seventies. No shirt until at least October unless he had to leave the house for something. Then he would pull on his tied dyed tank top.  He went to bed around seven every night and was up before dawn every morning.

He was a retired Navy man who traveled cross country with his wife, living in a RV for years and years before settling down next door to us Clampetts.

I remember the first time they came to eat at Mama Lucia's, where I once worked in Newnan. It is an upscale restaurant featuring Italian and French cuisine. Mr. slowLee came in with his wife, Ms. Claudette to eat. He had on his white gym shorts, Jesus sandals and tie dyed tank top.

Let me interject here that Ms. Claudette is blind. Lee could have left the house naked and she wouldn't know it unless she put her hand on his lap while driving.

After my handy next door husband on one side, Ron moved to Tennessee I quickly learned to go to Mr. slowLee on the other side of our house for help with various problems. Granted he was in his late seventies but had plenty of time to spare. Bless his heart though, he was slower than slow and often times felt like taking my weed eater or whatever else I had taken to him for repair and simply trying to fix it myself with duct tape, gorilla glue or some random nut and bolt.

But Mr. slowLee always, always had time to help me and never seemed to mind. I cut and weed eated their yards for years and years and he was always grateful for my help.

I remember the morning we loaded up the moving truck for Orlando. He moved two camping chairs out to their driveway for both of them (mostly him) to watch our departure. We traded cell phone numbers and promised to stay in touch. Ms. Claudette had her address book in her lap and asked me to enter our new address into it for her.

My nephew and his wife moved into our old house and took over care of Lee's yards after we left.

The first time we went back to visit, Mr. slowLee looked pale and weak. When we went back a year later, he looked pitiful and couldn't even speak. It was heartbreaking.

My sister called me a few days ago. When visiting our old house where her own son lives now, stopped next door to check on Lee. The report wasn't good, from Lee's step daughter, and was down to days if not hours left.


It wasn't the swiftest exit but at least wasn't years and years. He died in his sleep. Claudette was there as well as hospice.

Now Claudette's daughter is having her moved to a nursing facility a couple of exits up the highway.


This also breaks my heart. Claudette is in her eighties, totally blind and now a widow. She will live in a strange place, not being able to see, or know her surroundings, including the people taking care of her. I have given strict instructions to all three of my kids.

Kill me with a pillow. Don't let me die alone and scared, or confused, or being a burden to you.

I don't deserve a lot but I deserve leaving this planet as happy as I was when I came into it.

I've made my marks on life and endured the scars of wrong decisions. I have always tried to pay it  ahead and mostly successfully done so.

Then the third bad thing happened.

                                              One of our oldest cousins died in her sleep.

                                     She had been one of the attendants at my parent's wedding.


Mim's father was killed in the war, shortly after D-Day before she was even born. She never got to meet her own father.

Talk about baggage for life...

Her mother, Lurline remarried and had two more children, with Chuck Clark, giving Mim two sibs and a wonderful step dad.

Mim was a young beauty.

When us three Leach kids were little, our mama never let us ride with our arms stuck out of the car or with coke bottles or any bottles in the car.  

I still remember why.

Shortly after this picture of Mim was taken, she was in a car accident with her mother.  They had a load of empty coke bottles in the car with them to take back to the store for a refund. Her mother lost her little finger because she had her arm propped up in the open window The broken glass also left Mim with scars as well.

Now she had scars on the inside and scars on the outside.

With the same 'three bad thing' theory, Mim lost her own son when he was barely past his teen age years.

My proverbial hat goes off to Mim...not sure I could have even gone on with my life, but she did. Actually she has lost two children, a daughter (six months old) as well who I don't remember. I was only about four or five then.



Her other daughter is so much like her it isn't even funny. She is the spitting image of Mim, with the same dry wit.

I will always miss Mim but glad she has finally gotten to meet her father for the first time. I'm sure he was waiting for her by the Pearly Gates.

Life doesn't come with guarantees and every second of it needs to be cherished because you never know how many minutes or seconds you have left.


The best reason ever, to love large and cherish the time you do have. I recently reconnected with Mim via Nation FB, once her daughter Holly (I am sure) dragged her into the cyber mix. We had several cyber chats and was good to hear from her again. Her posts were always as dry as her humor and always made me smile.

I am beyond blessed to be from a family who give and accept love, unconditionally and always inclusively. We sometimes  go years without seeing each other but that moment, that instant we are all together again, those years apart simply don't matter.

We are family and family is our Forte'.

Mim lost many loved ones in her lifetime but somehow survived. She shrunk into her shell, but who wouldn't?

She has my Kudos for surviving as long as she did, and was most certainly stronger than I would have ever been after all her trials and tragedies.

I dare any one to walk in her shoes and come out smiling and carefree.

I would have been a puddle of tears in the corner of the floor of life...but Mim never was. She was stoic, almost to the point of being dismissive or seemingly uncaring.

That was Mim's shield.

She held that shield up and hid behind it, and can't blame her one damn bit.

I feel honored to have a relative who was braver than brave, in the face of life's sporadically thrown roadblocks to ultimate happiness.

Life threw her curve ball after curve ball...and then some.

She may not have been the best but  did her best.

I salute her.

As should we all.


"And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking. Racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older. Shorter of breath and one day closer to death."

Life is ticking away for us all.


Till next time, COTTON