~~Andrew Foster (only those who specifically request to have their names printed will be named--all others will be confidential)
I was born in Greenville, South Carolina, on 23 January 1983. My father was a Citadel graduate, class of 1981, and was working at the Milliken Plant during my infant years. My sisters were born during this time, Kathy on 9 February 1984 and Amy on 10 November 1985 (you can guess what MY father enjoyed doing). When I was four years old, June of 1987, my Mother suffered a heat stroke while walking by a pool at a Holiday Inn near Gastonia, North Carolina during a holiday, and drowned before EMS could arrive to the scene. I was with my mother's parents when it happened, but I can remember arriving and walking into the hotel room. All of my Dad's friends were lined up the room, creating a hallway of people to my father. I, of course, had no idea what had happened (and my grandparents had done an amazing job of keeping me entertained on the way from Spartanburg, South Carolina). I ran up to Dad, gave him a hug and said, "Hey Daddy! Why is everyone here? Are we having a party??"
I do not remember this conversation, but my father tells me he explained to me precisely what had happened. All I said in reply was "she's not coming home?" Dad said no, and I said "oh. Okay." and walked away to go play with my cousins. It wouldn't be until several months later that I fully realized what had happened.
I cried myself to sleep for two years. I cannot express with words how annoying it is to wake up in the morning and not be able to open your eyes because your tears have dried and essentially sealed your eyelids shut. I also became delusional for a short period of time; I can still to this day see the numbers on my digital clock jumping down onto the desk and running after me, only to return to their proper positions when Grandma opened the door to check on me. My father fought with depression for a year, gained 300+ pounds and nearly died of heart congestion. Finally, after a year of living with my father's parents, Papa helped Dad buy a house down the street, and Dad began to get back on his feet. He found another job in Fingerville at the Oneida plant as a shift supervisor, and life began to level out.
We had a weekly schedule that helped me keep myself sane through the tragedy of losing my mother. Monday and Tuesday after school I would stay with Papa until Dad got off work, then I would go home and Dad would cook us dinner. Wednesday and Thursday nights my sisters and I would stay with my mother's parents, who would take us to church on wednesday night and give my father a day to himself. Thursday nights were our nights. Dad would take out one of us each week (alternating oldest to youngest) and have a night with just the two of us. My Thursday night often consisted of going with him, and my God father Russel Rhodes, to the arcade in West Gate Mall called Jolly Time. It is not there anymore, but back in those days it was the top! I still have close to 20,000 Jolly Time tickets that I never did, and never will be able to, cash in. These years were by far the best years of my life, up to this point. Everything was perfect; this was not meant to be, however.
When I was in fourth grade, Onieda closed the chemical plant, firing Dad along with the rest. This shattered my dream of going to Citadel summer camp that summer, and after looking for most of second semester of that school year, Dad found a job in Gastonia, NC. So, reluctantly, I was forced away from my entire extended family, all of my friends, and the only stability I had ever known. In Gastonia my peers shunned me and I was pushed away from every aspect of social activity but while this sounds depressing, it brought my family together in a way we never could have possibly thought of.
To be continued . . .
