First Posted: 11/7/2014

ROWLAND — Since her grandmother’s death one week ago, Lydia Hoyes and her parents have found comfort in knowing that 83-year-old Alemeaner Dial seemed to believe her time was near.

The week before Alemeaner was attacked by Lydia’s dogs, an attack that led to her death on Nov. 2, she began telling her 26-year-old granddaughter things she wanted her to know — “just in case.”

She took the father of Lydia’s son aside for a similar chat.

“She was telling him that he needed to be there for me, which was weird,” Lydia said.

Although devastated by her grandmother’s death, a week later, Lydia has stopped crying.

“Why should I cry? My grandma loved me,” she said.

Of Alemeaner’s 24 grandchildren, Lydia was the favorite, according to Alemeaner’s son-in-law, Ronald Locklear. He has been frustrated because some have tried to blame his daughter because the pit bulls were her’s.

In the days following the attack and preceding Alameaner’s death, Ronald Locklear became angry — and, like a father, protective of his daughter. He knew it was Lydia who took care of her grandmother, and he believed she was being unfairly attacked because the dogs were hers. It was a message he delivered in person to The Robesonian.

“Her being 26 years old, she should have never had that responsibility,” Ronald said. “… She gave it all up to be with her.”

Despite a nearly 60-year age difference, Lydia and Alemeaner were like sisters.

“She was not an old lady at all, maybe in body but not in spirit. She was fun, she made everything fun. I never remembered what day it was, I never cared about the time … I felt like I was where I was supposed to be,” Lydia said.

When Alemeaner’s husband died, some family members wanted her to live in a rest home. Lydia, Ronald and his wife, Darlene, refused. For a while she lived alone on Gaddy’s Mill Road — in the home where she had lived since the early 70s, and the last home she would live in.

But the home was falling apart. A hole in the roof let in everything from rain to snakes. Pipes had burst and there were no smoke detectors. So she moved in with Ronald and Darlene for about eight months.

“She was so happy. She loved it at my house but that wasn’t her home. She wanted to be at her home and by God we got her there …,” Locklear said.

Lydia put more than $25,000 into fixing up the home Alemeaner loved. She replaced the porch where she sat each day reading her newspaper — as she was doing before the attack took place. She fixed the roof, built a fire pit for summer nights and uprooted flowers from the woods to pretty up the yard.

“I did anything and everything. I cleaned, I tutored, I cut grass, I raked yards, I even worked on Sheetrock, I had fundraisers,” she said. “You name it, I did it.”

Alemeaner, Lydia and a friend who helped out around the house moved into the finished product on June 22.

“It was like Noah’s Ark,” Lydia said. “We didn’t know why we were building an ark but we were doing it. When she got home though, it was the best summer of my life … she was so happy to be at home.”

They cleared the brush from a pond on the property so Alemeaner could park her walker next to it and fish, one of her favorite past-times.

“To see her smile, a million dollars couldn’t have bought that,” Ronald said, recalling that day.

But taking care of someone who had two hip surgeries and suffered from gout and dementia is a time-consuming job.

Lydia was taking classes in criminal justice, but had to stop in order to care for Alemeaner, which often took her away from her 9-year-old son, Everton.

“It was out of my heart,” Lydia said, explaining why she didn’t take an easier route. “There was times I went back to that house and sat … and just asked myself why am I working so hard? Why am I giving up everything when I could have a brand new home right now?”

But it was a responsibility Lydia felt was only right to take on.

“She told me she felt like she was a burden and I hate that she said that,” Lydia said.

According to Ronald, Alemeaner adored Gaddys and Tinkerbell, the two adult pit bulls who, with their two puppies, would eventually inflict horrific injuries that led to her death. In fact, he says, they made her feel safer. Lydia always knew her grandmother was awake in the morning when she heard her call the puppies to her window.

“My daughter loved her dogs and my grandson, Everton, he’s been around them since he could walk. None of the dogs ever messed with that child,” Ronald said, dismissing any notion that they had been vicious. The adult dogs had been vaccinated and were confined in a fenced-in area around the home in accordance with standards set forth by the Robeson County Health Department.

Family members who arrived at the house while the attack was taking place say Alemeaner was dragged from her porch by the dogs while reading the paper. Ronald doubts that was the case, saying doctors told the family that three broken ribs suggests she had fallen.

“When Mom got up out of the chair instead of how she normally goes right on back to the house, the puppies were probably down there and she wanted to pet them … She must’ve fell on one of the puppies. She was rolled over on her back because they didn’t get to her back,” Ronald said, offering his explanation.

Lydia was out paying bills when the attack happened.

“I could have been at that house, my daughter … or anybody else could have been there, and it still was going to happen,” Ronald said.

Alemeaner was taken to UNC Hospitals with severe injuries.

“They couldn’t even figure out how she was breathing,” Ronald said. “She was living for a reason, she was still praying.” Days after being taken off of life support, Alemeaner held on.

Her family says she had always been strong-willed.

“She would have stood up to anybody for you …,” Lydia said. “She was my everything. She was my miracle worker, she gave me life.”

Ronald said his family has been devastated, especially Lydia.

“I’m going through more than anybody really knows,” Lydia said. “I got stuff going on inside me, outside of me, in my mind, out of my mind, and nobody knows.”

The last time Lydia spoke to her grandmother, they played a game of peek-a-boo, popping in and out of view to say “I love you.” Lydia plans to get a tattoo commemorating the moment.

“I still feel like I can feel her,” Lydia said. “When I get really mad, it’s like I can hear her voice telling me not to get mad anymore, to quit blaming myself, quit blaming others.”