He knew he was home. He knew everybody was here.
Cathy Dickinson Mayfield
No matter how much you think you’re prepared to lose somebody, you’re not. There are so many things to manage in end-of-life care. Our family has experienced it and I’m so glad we found out about Big Bend Hospice beforehand.
My husband Emory Mayfield loved life and loved being part of this community. He started his road building and site development company, M. of Tallahassee, Inc., with just him and his pickup truck. He developed relationships that earned him projects like Killearn, Summerbrooke, Capital Circle, Southwood and FAMU Way.
I worked in the office with my husband. His nephew, William, became his right-hand man in the early days and Emory’s youngest son Henry eventually took over as president. Emory loved his employees and felt very strongly about how his people should be treated. For that he gained their loyalty.
Emory’s passions were family, fishing and football. Early in our marriage, we bought a getaway at Alligator Point. We went every weekend with the kids. He had his pilot’s license and owned a small plane, so he was a great navigator and had all the coordinates to his favorite fishing spots.
Emory loved big equipment, having grown up tobacco farming with his father in Southwest Georgia, and he loved the land. He was always on a tractor mowing pastures or building ponds to improve property he owned in Grady County, GA.
In 2009, Emory and I lost our 18-year-old daughter, Lawson, from bacterial meningitis. She was daddy’s “second” little girl
and was extremely close to her brothers and sister. She’d become an accomplished equestrian, qualifying and competing nationally. Though heartbroken, Emory recovered his joy. He delighted in his seven grandchildren, becoming their “Big E,” the loving grandfather who was generous with affection, cradled them in his lap and occasionally even tucked a little “walking around money” in their pockets.
Emory loved to play practical jokes on friends, co-workers and the kids.
One time he grilled pickled pigs’ feet and put them on the kids’ plates when they were expecting a burger. He would grab an extra set of keys from the office, and moved his estimator’s truck, so he’d have to search for it.
We knew about Big Bend Hospice (BBH) and had supported it for years. I visited a friend in the Hospice House in 2007. It was one of the most peaceful places I could ever have imagined. And in caring for my stepfather toward the end of his life, we had an informational visit with a BBH admissions nurse, while he was still at home. I was so impressed with the whole process. He was able to make that decision on his own and the beauty was we all knew what to expect.
In the spring and early summer of 2023, Emory had a series of infections and eventually pneumonia. In one of his restless states at the hospital, he called out “Lawson!” our deceased daughter’s name. I said, “Have you found her?” and he said, “Not yet, but I will soon.” I knew it was time to get him home and with the help of Big Bend Hospice he was home the next day.
We were able to care for Emory as a family that final week. Big Bend Hospice told us everything we needed to know, and visited as needed, so we were able to manage his care.
Many people told me one of the biggest things that affected them at Emory’s funeral was seeing his employees walking in together, all the guys, in their work clothes. It was the greatest tribute they could have given him.
If you are blessed with time before losing a loved one, find out about Big Bend Hospice beforehand. It’s huge.
Even better, support their work now, so they can continue to be there for all of us when that time comes.
