A Profile in Bravery, Faith, and Love

PAT BROOKS

A Profile in Bravery, Faith, and Love

By Joshua Craft

“You have cancer.”

Think about the impact those words have for a moment. I pray that you have never had to hear and will never have to hear those words. It’s a fall-to-thefloor moment. Thoughts race through your mind at a million miles per hour, all while you are still trying to figure out if this is a nightmare or reality. A treatment team is assembled within minutes, discussing chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, blood counts, tumor markers, trial studies, and anything else you may need for the next six months, or twelve months, or twelve years to help combat this disease. All of this takes place in minutes, but your time has slowed down, and it seems like hours. “What the heck just happened? There’s no way this is real. I’m getting a second opinion.” Then, reality does set in. “Breathe. I need to call my family. I need to figure out what the doctor is saying. What stage? What’s the treatment, and what are the odds it will work?” At that moment, whether we realize it or not, we are preparing ourselves for a fight like never before–a fight for life.

Before you read this, I will issue a caveat: this is a story of loss; this does not have the outcome that I had with cancer, nor does it have the expected outcome of little Wesley Lyons that was the feature story a few

Access editions ago (he is doing much better and is exceeding expectations from doctors, by the way). Even though this story does not have the ending we want, there are still distinct parallels in each of our battles with a cruel disease, and even though this is her life and her story, I am reminded that I, too, have walked where she has walked, not by choice, but by necessity. This story may not have the best outcome, but it is still a story of strength and courage in life, which was the only way that Mrs. Pat Brooks lived; she fought with the bravery of 10,000 soldiers, and even at the end of her life, she was still one of the strongest in Oxford.

In 1950, Pat Nunnally was introduced to Wellborn. I’m sure her parents were happy to have a daughter, and I know for sure that they would be proud of the legacy she left. She was born and raised in Wellborn; her roots were deep. Terry Parker has many fond memories of Pat, his relative Debbie Taylor, and himself while they were students at the now-defunct Mechanicsville Elementary School. He begins:

“Pat, Debbie, and I walked home for lunch one day. The distance was about half-a-mile, and our route took us over some railroad tracks. We had lunch and began our walk back to school. Much

to our dismay, there was now a train on the tracks, blocking our return to school. Between the three of us, we cooked up an ‘ingenious’ plan that would enable us to get back to school on time. We decided the best–and possibly the safest–thing to do was to position ourselves in a place at the center of the boxcar. We reasoned that it didn’t matter in which direction the train started moving, we were at an equal distance from the ends, and we would have the maximum time to dash under the train. Eventually, after much discussion, this almost fearless trio mustered up enough courage to squat down and make a swift dash under the train, and we made it back on time. I want to point out that our biggest fear was not getting hit by the train, but it was what we thought would happen if we were late getting back from lunch. Looking back, we did an extremely foolish thing, but to us as fourth graders, it was a big adventure.”

Terry went on to talk about how much fun they had at recess, and that Pat could throw, catch, and hit a softball as well any of the boys in their class. He said that her two sons, Wes and Roby, got their athletic ability from their mother and father, Jimmy, but they both had a special talent because of Ms. Brooks.

Pat Brooks, 1965.

After she graduated from Wellborn, she married the love of her life, Jimmy, who is still a legend in the Wellborn baseball community. Her two sons were born, and she began to work at Cooper Chevrolet as a secretary. Even though she was working, she never missed her sons’ games and was there to support Jimmy when he was coaching youth baseball at Wellborn. She was

dedicated to her family, and her support of her family–as we will continue to mention throughout this article–was a phenomenon in itself. As the matriarch of a male-dominated household, she made sure to be the best mother and wife she could be, and she did so with the flare that only she could do.

Fast-forward to 1996, and Mrs. Brooks is now the secretary at Wellborn High School. Her husband is still grinding at the youth baseball fields in town, and Wes and Roby are playing baseball for Jacksonville State. Her life could not be better, but her world is about to be shattered, through no fault of her own. On March 29th, her husband suffered a brain aneurysm while driving and hit a telephone pole on Christine Avenue in Anniston. Their sons were in Louisiana when they received the news, and when they arrived home, were all told by doctors to say their goodbyes to their husband and father, who was on life support. Jimmy passed away on March 30th, and he left such a strong legacy in Wellborn that businesses were encouraged to close for his funeral.

On a sidenote: What an unspeakable tragedy. A family gets acall that the man they love the most is dying. What happenswhen you get that call? No one can prepare for this. It isyour worst fears coming to life. Thisis one of those things that no amountof blood, sweat, and tears can fix, butthe Brooks family soldiered on.

Mrs. Brooks got to see her children succeed after Jimmy’s untimely death. Then a widow, she told me many times that her husband would be so proud of his boys, and that he was celebrating with her, Wes, and Roby in Heaven. Mrs. Brooks

was still part of his legacy, and she got to see Wes become the head baseball coach at his alma mater, Wellborn High School, and Roby become the owner of the Top Gun Baseball Facility in Oxford. She was their biggest fan. She would show up to every game she could, sit in her fold-out chair, and celebrate the victories and agonize over the defeats. When Wes became the head baseball coach at Oxford High School, Mrs. Brooks went from “Wellborn’s biggest fan” to “Oxford’s biggest fan” in a matter of seconds. She was at Bud McCarty Field and at Choccolocco Park supporting her youngest son at every game, and she was there when the Yellow Jackets won their first state baseball championship in 2012. I’m not sure how she got the nickname “Mama Brooks,” but everyone called her that, and it was the truth. She was everyone’s “Mama,” and she showed that through giving everyone that came to see her a big hug and telling them how special they were. She and I had an unspoken agreement as well: I would go to her in her chair, and she would look me in the eyes and say, “Hey Josh, I love you so much; you’re such a sweetheart,” and she would give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which meant as much to me as it did to her.

Mama Brooks retired from Wellborn High School in 2016 after 25 years, but her presence at her sons’ events never wavered. At the outdoor events, it was guaranteed that she would be sitting in the usual corner with her fold-out chair, supporting Roby and his son, who plays for the Top Gun team, or supporting Wes as he coached his team. At the recitals and pageants, she was there supporting her granddaughters and giving them standing ovations. She was having some minor health problems, but they were not bad enough to go to the doctor. When she finally did go to the doctor, she got the news that anyone fears more than anything: Stage 4 Colon Cancer.

I am sure the news was shocking. Being a cancer survivor myself, I remember an out-of-body experience happening when I was given the news. Pat Brooks, a vibrant woman in fair health, is given news that no one wants, and the “Stage 4” she heard compounded the emotions she was feeling at that moment. Not only did she have to process that, but it had spread to her liver as well. Think about being the person that has to deliver that news. If you had to tell someone that, would you cry with them or would you ready the battle stations and prepare them for a fight? I remember hearing “Stage 2” when I was informed I had cancer, and I definitely had some anxiety about what I was facing. I also believe that she and I–after processing the news and sharing it with loved ones– knew that our support system that was made up of our families and friends was going to play a vital role in our journeys, respectively, for the next few months, or even years.

Mama Brooks was diagnosed in March of 2018, which was “inconvenient” because she didn’t want to miss any of Oxford’s baseball games. After surgery, it was time for her to start her chemotherapy regimen, which had to be one of the most aggressive treatments the medical staff could give. Was she ready for it? I am not sure if anyone is ready for chemo. It affects all patients differently. For me, it was some of the worst pain I have ever been through. My mediport (which is what they run chemo through intravenously) always had issues, I could not eat anything, my hair fell out quickly, and I slept all day. I could not work and had to medically withdraw from Jacksonville State University for the semester. For Mama Brooks, she went through many similar things that I did, but she always was smiling and would get out when she could. She was so much stronger than most after a round of chemotherapy, and she did not let it depress her. I was avoiding crowds and staying

away from the public from November 2008 to March 2009, but Ms. Brooks was still out at the park, showing her love to not only her sons but to everyone she encountered.

I remember the first time I took Mrs. Brooks to the doctor. Wes and Roby were out of town for a week or two and they asked me to take her to Anniston so she would continue treatments. I welcomed that opportunity for two reasons: because I loved and respected Mrs. Brooks, and because I wanted to spend time with her while she was getting chemo. It is a curiosity I have to learn about cancer in folks besides myself, but it is to let them know that I am here to offer my experience with the disease and to support and lend advice. We would drive from Coldwater to RMC. I would drop her off at 9:00 am, and I would be back around lunch to pick her up. I loved the conversations we had. We would talk about football, baseball, television shows, or even what she needed to pick up from the drugstore along with her prescription. Some of the things she said to me were so wise and to-the-point, and the way she delivered them reminded me of Forrest’s mother in Forrest Gump: short, simple, and with conviction. I remember one instance in particular when I was driving her home, and I decided to turn opposite of Coldwater and take a short scenic route. We were driving along Christine Avenue in Anniston, and when we reached a stop sign, Ms. Brooks looked out the window and softly said, “This is where my husband died. He ran into that pole right there.” My heart sank! I started apologizing, explaining to her that I had no idea that had happened at this spot, and I would not drive that way again. She said, “No, it’s fine. I like to drive up here now and then and see it for myself, just to remember. It may not be the best memory, but it is still a memory.” That puts it in perspective, doesn’t it? A woman who was fighting cancer, whose world had been shaken to the core over 20 years ago, is content enough with her life to remember the good and the bad. She showed her true mettle at that moment, so

not only did she give us sage wisdom, but she showed us by example how to do it. I will be honest with you: the stories I write about cancer are more difficult for me to write than others because I have tried to block that memory out, but it still keeps returning. Maybe I will take Mama’s (I shortened her nickname during our trips to the doctor) advice and group it in there with the good memories as she did. That was just one instance of her imparting her wisdom to me, and I am sure that all of us that knew her have a story of our own.

Mama Brooks’ condition was deteriorating, but she tried not to let that get in the way of seeing her family. I remember going to pick her up from her granddaughter’s recital after she had just gotten out of the hospital a few days before. She should’ve been at home recovering, but she was not about to do that. If she could find a way to get there and get back, she would go. It was amazing to see her resilience through the worst of her treatment. She was one of the most determined people in the world during those moments.

I remember a moment that I had with Mama Brooks that humbled me. Wes and Roby and their families were on vacation, and their mother was staying at Wes’ house during that time. They had arranged for one of the neighbors to check on her daily and make sure she was taking her medicine and was able to walk around a little bit and function normally. Wes gave me his garage door opener, and I also agreed to check on her a few times during his and Roby’s absence. One day, my coworker and friend, Lamar Carter, and I were in the area. I remembered to check on Mrs. Brooks after lunch, so we headed to Wes’ house. We knocked on the door for several minutes, and we heard her walking to the door. All of a sudden, we heard a thud on the floor, and we knew she had fallen. I ran to my truck to get the garage door opener, entered the house, and she was lying next to the door. I opened it so Lamar could come in, and we

immediately jumped into action. “I’m alright, I just need to get to the couch,” is what I remember Mama Brooks saying to us several times, and I remember Lamar and me saying “No, Mrs. Brooks, you’re not alright, we need to get you to the hospital.” Roby and Wes were in communication with us throughout the hour we were there, and I was able to call the Oxford EMS Director, Ricky Howell, and he hastened one of their ambulances over to the house, where she was then taken to the hospital. By an act of providence, I remembered to go there at that time, and the truth is, we were told that she would have likely passed away if we had not gone by to check on her. If you want to see two grown men brought to their knees, tell them that. It is one of the most humbling things I have ever experienced, but I am so thankful that Lamar and I were able to play just a small part in keeping Mama here just a little while longer.

Pat Brooks with her sons, Roby and Wes.

Pat Brooks passed away on April 6th from the cancer she was diagnosed with a year before. I remember visiting her in the hospital a week or two before she died, and she was in and out of sleep, and the physicians said that she would not be able to talk. I would speak to her and tell her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me, and she would nod in agreement, and that was good enough. As I was leaving, I leaned down to kiss her, and she said clearly, “I just love you so much, baby.” There she was! In her final days, she was still the same Pat Brooks we all knew and loved. She was “Mama” to all, and I am so happy I was with her, if only for a fleeting moment.

I am also happy that we dedicated a corner of the signature baseball field at Choccolocco Park to Mama Brooks. If anyone deserves it, it is her. It is her corner, and I am glad that the park is part of her legacy, which also lives on through her sons and her grandchildren, and it lives on through all of us that knew her in her childhood, in her employment, as Wes and Roby’s mother, or even in her final days. If you ever got to meet her, you know exactly what I mean when I say she was a mother to us all.

I cautioned you at the beginning that the outcome of this story does not meet the expectations, but that does not mean we are not smiling while reflecting on memories of Mrs. Brooks that we now cherish. I said one word in the opening paragraph that I hope you can latch onto for a moment, and that word is “impact.” Think of the impact that Mama Brooks had in our community, in our lives, and in how we treat others. She would encourage us to hug our friends, tell them we love them, and celebrate life together. I will even go out on a limb and ask you to hug someone today and to show them the love that Mama Brooks showed all of us. Continue to impact others in the way that she did us. We will all be better for it. Here’s a verse from a hymn that I think is the perfect way to send her off in style O Come, angel band! Come and around me stand. Oh bear me away on your snow-white wings; To my immortal home!

Welcome home, Mama, welcome home.

Pat Brooks with her grandchildren.

OXFORD ACCESS MAGAZINE | SUMMER 2019 39