Little Taban and his daddy, Tommy.... 'Tommy crying with Taban'....
IT HAPPENED AGAIN....
IT HAPPENED AGAIN....
BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/ aka GRANNY GEE
I decided to change the cover photo on my Facebook Timeline yesterday. I found a photo of Tommy holding little Taban. Taban was crying, Tommy had picked him up.
Tommy began 'crying' with Taban... Taban had reached his little hand out to touch Tommy's face while looking at his daddy. That photo is so precious ... it reflects a father who loved his son with his heart.
I look at little Taban's face as he looked at his daddy. I was wondering if he was amazed at his daddy 'crying' with him. I wonder what he thought with his young mind?
When I look at that photo... my eyes are drawn to that little hand as it touches Tommy's face. It's so precious, so much in my mind, that it hurts me very much to look at it. It's real, and so, like Tommy's 'still here'. I know his face so well. I haven't forgotten my son... not at all.
I had to take the photo off my Timeline... each time I went to my Facebook page... seeing it all of a sudden when my Facebook page loaded... made me feel sort of faint, shaky inside... and I felt myself hurting when looking at the photo. I began that crying again... it happens like that... 'just before' I'm aware of it... it's strange.
I will put it back on again someday ... but, not now. It's not time for me to keep it out. I have only one photo I keep out to look at, it sits on Tommy's Chest. Tommy is smiling in the photo... at the time the photo was taken (I took the photo).... we had met McKenzie and her mother so, Tommy could see McKenzie. Whenever he got to see McKenzie, it always had to be at a McDonald's or Wendy's. Tommy didn't care, all he wanted was to see his daughter. He loved her very much.
I've been thinking of Tommy's Chest alot today... I feel a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I want to just go into my art room and get that chest, bring it into the dining room (I don't know 'why' I don't want to open it in my art room)
I want to sit Tommy's Chest on the dining table, take each article out to hold, to feel, to remember my son. That's what I want to do... I feel too much emotion, too much...............grief, pain to do so. I'm going to do it... I want to open it, 'visit my son' through his belongings. I wish I could remember what's in it... the things were put in it when I was in that 'dark world' ... I put each little thing I could find of his.. in it.
I don't have his ashes, Taban's mother has them. She says she's going to take them to Stone Mountain to spread them... I'm sure I won't be there. My wish is to have my son's ashes, but... she said 'no, Tommy wanted his ashes to be spread up on Stone Mountain'. I respect that, I respect that she wants to do what he told her. Tommy grew up in that area where we lived for many years... it's beautiful there.
It's like Skip and I... when 'we go'... we don't want to have a public viewing at all. We promised each other to not let other people walk around us, looking at us, stand around laughing and talking, visiting each other while we laid there.
It would be like coming into our bedroom to watch us sleep. It will be very private if something happens to one of us...we are very private people, though we have alot of friends. We both feel the very same way.... no viewing us as we lay in our 'final sleep'. We both want to be cremated... we both will keep the other's ashes.
I may be opening Tommy's Chest soon... something does tell me not to do it just yet. I tell myself I'm going to... I wonder 'why' it's so heavy? I can't remember what's in there to make it so... heavy. I 'try to see in my mind'... I only 'see darkness' just like when I was in that dark world... when I put his things inside. I can't remember, I just can't remember what's in there.
Wait... I do know there is that clear, plastic box in there. It holds photos that make me feel very upset... they are of Tommy laying there in what Taban called 'the box'... the box he tried to climb up in to see his daddy. He couldn't understand why his daddy couldn't get up to talk to him, play with him.... he was only three years old. It hurts my heart that a young child lost his father, he loved his 'big daddy' so much.
The box...where Tommy lay... the clear, plastic box of photos of 'that box'... that held my son so, everyone could view him... he never wanted to be viewed like that. He was also, very private. There were so many people there, standing and talking, laughing... visiting each other. I drifted around in another world... I was a leaf... the wind blew me... when it stopped, so did I. I was seeing all from another world... through grief-stricken eyes, through a fog of powerful medicine. Thank-God for that medicine.
I had no idea all these thoughts were so close to the surface. I thank-God for having 'here' to go to ... to write these thoughts to help clear my mind. I think I'm hurting without me wanting to know that I am... I think that I don't want to hurt... but, it's happened... again. It still happens again... and again. It really hurts so bad. I wonder 'why' this happened at this time? It must be something subconscious... something I don't want to try to think about.
As this happens again... and again... I will pick me up .... again and again. I won't stay down ... I mean to go forward. I know this will happen in the future... but, I will cope with 'now'. You can 'see me get up now'... everything's going to be alright... again. :)))
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