‘Papa Andy’ was always ‘a bright presence.’ His death from COVID-19 came way too fast.

Max “Andy” Jones was a little bit of everything.

He was a small business owner, father, husband, brother and son. Ruthless at monopoly. Lover of father-son bowling. Former disco club bartender. Once the first mate of a ship.

Jones, 71, died April 7, of coronavirus-related complications. He moved to a rehabilitation center near his Clayton home in mid-March — the result of other health conditions ailing him. That’s where he contracted COVID-19, his family suspects. The day he left home was the last time his wife of 47 years, Nancy, saw him.

“Call me when you get settled,” she told him. “I love you.”

Jones was rushed to Wake Medical Center on April 3 and admitted to the ICU.

“He had been on a downhill slope because of some other issues he had,” said his 29-year-old son, Nate Jones. “Had the virus not been a thing, he probably had at least several more months left in him.”

Jones’s condition was worsening, fast. He was placed on a ventilator. His kidneys were shutting down. But his wife and son could not visit him.

For Nancy, that was the hardest part. Everything happened so quickly, she said.

“I miss him,” Nancy said. “There’s so many things in this house that remind me of him. And I find myself talking to him — muttering. I guess I’ll be doing that for a while.”

‘We always worked together’

It was Christmas of 1973, and Nancy had just graduated from Campbell University. She was looking for a job to make some extra Christmas money. So she stopped by Frank A. Stith’s, a men’s clothing store in Winston-Salem.

“I asked to see the manager,” Nancy Jones recalled. “And there he was.”

He gave her the job. They married in 1975 and started a small business — Alternative Mailing and Shipping Solutions — in 1984. The couple was known for putting their employees and customers first.

“Our love grew out of that,” Nancy said.

When Nancy had two miscarriages, her husband was there. When she was diagnosed with lung cancer, he was there.

“We always worked together,” Nancy said. “He always took care of me. He always had my back.”

And when he started getting sick a few years ago, she, in turn, was there for him.

“His body was going through a whole lot of changes and not producing protein, and that was causing another set of circumstances,” Nancy recalled. “It was his respiratory system. He lost a lot of weight. He couldn’t go up and down the steps”

They moved a hospital bed into the living room for Jones, and therapists came to the house twice a week, until they decided to move him to Springbrook Nursing & Rehabilitation Center-Clayton.

In the two weeks Jones lived there, he talked on the phone with his wife several times a day.

The last time they spoke, Jones’s voice was low. Nancy struggled to understand him.

“I can’t talk anymore,” he told his wife. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Get some rest,” Nancy replied. “We’ll talk later. Just give me a call when you get up.”

‘Good about looking at the bright side of life’

When Nate saw his father last, he was in good spirits, like always.

“He was always really good about looking at the bright side of life,” Nate said. “He was a really bright presence in a room — just always trying to make people laugh.”

Nate and Andy Jones were close. Andy went on Nate’s marching band trips. They played in bowling leagues — one of which was called the Young and the Restless. They were both night owls, and would chat on the phone late at night. They watched “Star Wars” and played board games often. Andy never lost.

In one of Nate’s birthday cards, his dad wrote, “It’s been really awesome getting a chance to grow up with you,” Nate recalled.

“My dad was my friend,” Nate said. “He had a pretty cool go at the whole life thing.”

Though Nate didn’t get to see his dad in the hospital, a nurse set up video conferencing for them.

“She went to the trouble to set it up in the event he did wake up,” Nate recalled. “His entire medical staff, they were all really gracious and wonderful people.”

A believer ‘in the human spirit’

Nancy and Nate Jones hope to have a celebration of life later this year to honor the man many of their loved ones called “Papa Andy.”

“He wasn’t a religious man, but he was a spiritual person,” Nate said. “He just believed in the human spirit more than anything.”

But for now, the Jones family is grieving alone.

“You want to be able to comfort your loved ones and just process something together in a big room with family but you can’t,” Nate said. “Hugs and kisses have become bullets now.”

This story was originally published April 30, 2020 at 11:33 AM.

Lucille Sherman

The News & Observer

Lucille Sherman is a state politics reporter for The News & Observer and The Herald-Sun. She previously worked as a national data and investigations reporter for Gannett. Using the secure, encrypted Signal app, you can reach Lucille at 405-471-7979.