Thursday, October 31, 2013

I Can't ...'See'... Milk

I Can't ...'See'... Milk
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

My beautiful mother... and my Grandma Alma.  Two of the most special women in my life.

Get back up to Grandma, and George's!  Fatty, fatty... two by four, can't get through the bathroom door! Get the f___ back up to Grandma's.  You ain't wanted down here!

I held my head down, crying.  No matter where I went, I wasn't wanted.  Everyone had a home, but... me.  I just 'stayed there'.  I stayed with my Grandma Alma, George's.  My paralyzed grandmother, and blind step-grandfather.  I loved them with my heart... but, I'd never known that kind of living.

Go on!  Didn't I tell you to get your ass up to Grandma's!  One of my cousins was being mean to me.  When they were in a good mood, they would play with me.  When anyone was ill... I was the one it was taken out on.  Fatty-fatty... two by four, can't get through the bathroom door!  Get your ass on up there!  Don't you ever come back down here, no more!

I walked the path back up to Grandma Alma, George's.  I sat down on the porch.  My feet were on the top step, my chin rested on my hands... my elbows were propped up on my knees.  I moved my face, pressing it against my hands.... my cheeks against my teeth.  I felt myself making faces... ugly faces.

I was maybe ten years old... I wasn't wanted anywhere.  Even my mama threw me away; though sometimes, she did come back to find me.  My mama would leave me for weeks, months at a time.  If I died, she'd be sorry.  She'd wish she hadn't left me.

She threw me into 'Hell'... the house I had to stay at was guarding the portal of Hell.  Everyone raised hell all the time, there.  They were some very evil people when angry.  Fighting, cursing, screaming, gnashing of teeth..... it was no place for a little child.

I watched my cousins play out in the front yard.  They were playing ball, something I loved to play.  They usually wanted me to play with them... not today.  They were ill-asses, today.  Just the sight of me made them hate me... I was so unwanted.

I got up, entered the front screen door.  The door opened into the living room ...'front room'... of the house.   I stood there.  I could hear Grandma Alma, George 'raising hell'.  It was loud, too.  George was helping her get to bed... to take her nap.  He'd lay on his bed, once he helped her.  I had to be quiet... George would get me, if I didn't.

Where could I go?  What could I do?  I looked to the doorway to the right.  I thought about sneaking into my aunt's bedroom (she was a hateful-ass teenager).  I changed my mind... she did something bad to me the last time.

She beat me badly, leaving blood on my legs, arms.  As she beat me, she cussed, raised hell.  Her face was contorted into a 'monster' face.  I didn't recognize her anymore.  She'd become a demon.  I hated her.

She had picked up a piece of wood from the stacked up wood....  it was for the wood-burning heater.  She used that piece of wood until she was exhausted.

I screamed to her that I was going to tell my mama when she came back, and that I hated her, wished she'd die.  I hated her with a passion.  My mama was going to kill her!  I wanted her to!  I was going to kick her if I got the chance!  Damn b____!

I had learned a lot of cuss words living at Grandma Alma's... I knew how to use them, too!  I never thought what they meant... I just knew when I was mad... it felt good to say them.  I would say them good!

The strange thing was... I loved my aunt very much when I wasn't mad.  A child doesn't understand 'why' they do things.... they just do them.  It's only when someone teaches them... that they learn.  No one was teaching me anything but.... hate, anger, unhappiness... how to fight to survive... and cuss words.

A little good girl 'gone bad'.... I think if you mistreated a cuddly, sweet, little puppy... it would 'bite you', too.  I was a sweet little girl, responded to love when it was given to me.  I wished for love... there never seemed to be enough to come to ... me.

It was the worst time I'd been beaten as a child.  My aunt knew it, too.  She was almost breathless, when she began trying to bribe me not to tell my mom.  She was scared... I could see it.

No, I wasn't going in her room.  She might kill me if I do.  She was mean, an evil...  witch.  She screamed, cussed all the time.  I loved her, anyway.  Sometimes, she was so kind to me.  Even sometimes, she would say, "I love you".

I wanted something to drink.  I was thirsty.  I tiptoed into the house, so... as not to wake Grandma Alma, and George.  They took naps every day.  George would holler very loud if I woke him up.  Grandma Alma would wake up, and holler at him.  No, I didn't want to wake them up.

I walked in a straight line across the floor from the screen door ... I entered the 'middle room'... this was the 'arena'.  This was the arena everyone came to 'raise hell ... to fight until someone was laying on the floor... in blood. Bleeding, crying... strange thing... always females.  I don't recall any males fighting there.

Flesh upon flesh... slapping, punching, kicking each other.  Scratching, ripping flesh.  The arena was where it all took place.  Men would have loved watching all the pretty women fight... they put on a spectacular show.

Grandma Alma had an old, faded pink, upholstered rocking chair sitting beside an old dresser in the middle room.  On it, sat all her bottles of medicine... her dingy glass of ice water.  Behind that, sat her bottle of Beauty Ray lotion, and bottle of alcohol.

George used the lotion and alcohol faithfully 3 times a day, to 'rub her up'.  I later found out when I was older... he gave her 'range of motion' exercises 3 times a day.  

You have to love someone dearly to do what he did, for twenty-some years... and be blind.  He devoted his life to her.

They fought like hell... when they fussed.  The older I got, the more I understood... what else did they have to do... they couldn't go anywhere; they didn't have anything to make them happy.  Their frustrations came out in their fusses... like a kettle on a stove... when it boils... it releases steam.  The more it built up pressure... the more it steamed.

If I were blind like George... or paralyzed like Grandma Alma was... I'm sure I'd cry, raise hell... scream, too.  Then... again, most likely I wouldn't... but, I'm sure I would ever once in a while... I'd be the meanest b____ around... at least for a little while.

Don't you know they felt anger sometimes, for the position life put them in?  For the hell in their life?  Never having any comforts in life?  No money, yet... they went on... they had a lot of love.

Maybe that's why their house was sitting over the portal to hell... maybe that's why they gnashed their teeth.  They lived in hell, over hell, and everyone reflected it... their life was... hell.

That house today... has been remodeled.  Yet... not so long ago, Skip and I went there... it took several days to get past the sick feeling I had inside my stomach.  I stood on the porch, in the doorway... looking inside.  I became physically sick....

Bad things have happened in that house through the years... it sits there.... looking pretty, innocent.  It's a 'bad' house.  I don't remember any happy things happening there through the years.  I don't think Grandma Alma, George ever got a break from the constant stress they lived under, until the day they died.

People have come, gone through time.  No one ever seemed to want to live there very long.  Bad things happened...

The last 'bad' thing I heard happening there was a young mother who hung herself.....

I'm sure the devil came up to visit my aunt.  I would like to know if the very door to 'Hell' was in her bedroom.  She sure could be mean.

Maybe ... he was the 'blue ball lightening' I used to see... it seemed to always 'look for me'.  I would always be under a quilt on Grandma Alma and George's old, red vinyl couch... peeping, watching it... my breath held until I felt faint.

That blue ball lightening would roll out of my aunt's room... looking back into the past... maybe he was her boyfriend... she could be an evil b____!

She had a reputation for being evil as she grew into a young woman... older woman.  She was one of the most evil women I ever knew.  Yet... I still loved her.

She hurt me many times through the years before she died... not only that... she got a lot of other people, too.  She was just 'mean'... and hid it with a sweet smile, and under the pretense of loving, liking someone until she found someone's weakness.

Once she did that... she'd strike... doing awful damage to families, different people.  She didn't have a heart.  I never saw that woman cry... I always saw a 'gleam' in her eye.  Yeah... I'm sure she and the devil 'had a thing going' ...back then.

The blue ball lightening would roll out of her bedroom door slowly.... toward me; it would stop, sit there.... stare at me.  I 'knew' it could see me... I 'knew' as a little girl, it 'knew' I was very afraid.  It never came any closer.

Every time a storm came up... I 'knew' that blue ball lightening as big as a basketball was going to look for me.

Everyone dumped their children on Grandma Alma, and George's, knowing they weren't able to care for them.  They cared for them the best they could; they loved their grandchildren.

George loved my Grandma Alma with his very heart.  She loved him in return.  No matter they had some 'hellacious' fusses... they loved each other.

When something happened good to them... it happened 'far and between'.  Usually what someone brought to them... was more worry, and 'extra' hell-raising, and a good fight in the 'arena'... located in the middle of the floor.  The arena was situated right in front of Grandma Alma's rocking chair... George had a wooden cane chair sitting beside hers.

  Their seats were 'front row' seats.  They saw many shows, and fights.  They never had to pay a thing... only pay attention.  Grandma Alma would cry, or begin screaming... George would cry out for them to stop.  No one ever heard a word they said... never.  The 'show' lasted until someone was disabled, bloody on the floor.

It was awful... a child should never see, hear...  feel such ugliness, hatred, violence... never.  It affects them deeply.  The arena was the place to come to be as ugly as a human being could be... without actually murdering someone.

I hated it... I hated whoever chose to come to it to fight... I hated it when someone came to it... and my mother was involved.  I would run up to the fight on the floor, and slap whoever was hurting my mom... slap them very hard in the face.

If I could, I would slap as many times as I could, and scream, "leave my mama alone, leave my mama alone".  Sometimes, I'd be sent flying through the air... my mama would 'really kick ass', then.  She might throw me away, but... she'd fight for me... I'm sure she loved me ... at least a little.

I was thirsty... I tiptoed to the refrigerator.  I was going to sneak a taste of milk!  I had had milk until I came to Grandma Alma's... when I came there, I didn't drink it anymore.  George would holler, raise hell about children drinking the milk up from Grandma Alma.  She needed it... she was sick.  I just wanted a taste... that was all... just a taste of it.

I used both my little hands to open the refrigerator door quietly... I thought I had.  Just as I reached for that carton of milk, I heard him.

"You better not be getting into that milk!  It cost too damn much to keep buying it for everybody to drink it up"!  My little hand came back down, I closed the door quietly, and tiptoed out of the room quickly!

This is how I learned 'not to drink milk'.  That's 'why' today... I don't see milk when it's in front of me.

This has amazed Skip all these years.  He can't believe how I never see, or think about milk... as much as I ... love milk.  He has to remind me to drink milk sometimes... if he doesn't drink it... it'll sit there... 'forever'.

I can open the refrigerator door, and see everything but... milk.  I love milk... but, I don't see it.

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Tuesday, October 29, 2013

There Was More To The Eye... Hiding In Plain View

There Was More To The Eye...Hiding In Plain View
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

The young man spun around once again, kicking the woman in her stomach. She turned white, fell to the floor silently in a dead faint. The young man watched her for any sign of life...she seemed to be completely out. Die, you old b....h, he thought as he quickly turned around.

The older man stood there, unseeing. He appeared to be blind. The young man didn't sense any threat there. He spoke to the older man, telling him to move. The man turned his head slightly as if he heard a sound. The young man knew then, that the older man couldn't hear well.

He took the older man by the arm, pulled him to the chair close by, pushed him down into it. The older man sat there, never showing any resistance. He sat there as if he were pushed into a chair all the time.
The young man forgot about the older man, and woman. They weren't a threat. He just wanted the money from the cash register sitting on the counter... where the older man had stood moments ago.

He walked to the cash register; tried to open it. He pressed keys, hoping to make the drawer open. He turned to look at the older man...older woman. The older man sat where he'd been pushed earlier. He sat there talking to himself... he had a slight smile on his face.

The young man looked to where the older woman still lay on the floor. He wondered briefly if he'd killed her ... he had kicked the s...t out of her. He wasn't going to get any help from them.

He ought to shoot both of them. They weren't any good to anybody. He became aware of the shop he was in. It smelled good in there. The younger man's stomach growled. Damn, if he wasn't hungry.

He walked over to the display case. There were doughnuts of every kind. All were arranged beautifully. He wanted to taste every one of them. He'd taste a few of them... then, get back to business. The young man became engrossed in the wonderful, sweet doughnuts. They had to be the most delicious doughnuts he'd ever eaten.

Everytime, he thought about getting back to business... the next piece of doughnut was better than the last. He saw one thing the old woman was good for. He ate on...tasting this, tasting that. He closed his eyes as he savored the sweetness... unaware he was being watched.

The woman began coming to... she began to move. She looked around as she struggled to sit up. Sharp, stabbing pain almost made her cry out. She heard noises... paper crinkling... she saw the young man with his back to her. To her amazement, he was totally engrossed in eating the doughnuts in front of him.

Her eyes moved to the cash register,to the shelf beneath it. She had a pistol under there... hidden beneath the white towel... in plain view. Her eyes noticed a slight movement... there in the chair sat her husband. He was 'hiding in plain view'.

She grinned at him... she knew what was coming. The young man had made a grave mistake... you never judge a book by its cover. She looked into her husband's eyes... they were communicating. They had planned this many years ago... this was the first time ever to put it into action.

No longer did her husband look like a feeble old man... nor she like an ordinary ... old woman. The transformation took place silently.  Her husband was a black belt in karate, he also, was in Special Forces in the military... no, that young guy didn't know who he messed with.  He, also.... wasn't blind... and could 'hear a gnat fart'.

The young man belched loudly... he was just before throwing up. The woman couldn't wait to give him some of his medicine back. Her stomach, body hurt as she stood up. She was going for the gun once her husband went into action.

He moved quickly toward the young man as she sprang forward to grab the pistol. The white towel fell to the floor as she grabbed the pistol, swung around with it. Her husband had grabbed the young man.

The young man didn't understand what was happening. He knew the old man couldn't see... he wasn't worried about him. He slung himself away from the older man... then, he walked toward the blind man. The young man had his gun ready... he was going to bust that old f.........'s head in.

As he got close to the old, blind man, he raised the gun high in the air. Just as he brought the gun down, something whipped out, grabbed his wrist... bending it until the young man began screaming. There was a loud pop... the older man let go, knowing the young guy wasn't any longer a threat to either of them.

The young guy fell to his knees screaming, "Oh God!  Oh God!"  The older woman walked over to him, stood looking at him.  The pain in her stomach, body hurt like hell.  She felt compassion for the young man... but, when a stabbing pain flashed through her stomach again, she felt 'pure, white, hot anger'.

Before she knew it, she had kicked the young man in his stomach.  The young man instantly began vomiting all the doughnuts up.  He tried to raise his hand to his face... it was obvious his wrist was broken.

He waited for her to kick him again.  She stood there looking at him... with a little, sweet smile on her face... and... a little glint in her eyes.  She never said a word.  The young man was afraid... very afraid.  This was no ordinary 'older' woman... he'd made a bad mistake.

They could hear her husband calling the sheriff's department... ask for an officer to come out, pick up the young man.  He hung up his cellphone, walked over to the young man.

"Have you ever robbed anybody else?  Have you ever hurt anyone else physically?"  The young man began to cry, saying he'd never hurt anyone in his life.  He'd never robbed anyone in his life.  He'd been with friends when some of them bragged about targeting 'old people' who ran businesses... robbing them to get money.

As he talked, tears streamed down his face.  His shoulders began shaking violently.  I'm so sorry!  I am so very sorry!  He looked at the older woman standing before him... his heart began breaking for hurting her.  She looked like she could be his grandmother.  Oh God, why did I do this?

The pain in his heart was greater than the pain in his wrist.  The woman's smile began to go away, if one looked .... they would have seen compassion come into her eyes.  She listened closely to the young man... he touched her heart.  Where it had been cold earlier... warmth had filled it.  She never said a word... she stood there looking down at him.

The young man grew quiet as he sat on the floor.  He held his wrist in his good hand.  He couldn't look up for the shame he felt.  He didn't know if he could ever look anyone in the eye, ever again.

He felt a hand gently touch his shoulder, looked up... into the older woman's face.  He saw tears in her eyes... tears mixed with kindness.  She said, "come on, son... let me help you up".  She was surprised at herself... she didn't know that she would do what she just did.  It was as if something was making decisions for her.

The young man slowly got to his feet.  She pulled him to her chest, hugged him tightly.  She told him, "everything is going to be alright".  He hugged her back, so thankful she didn't hate him.  He had made a stupid mistake.  He had listened to his friends, wanted to do something to impress them.  Instead, he had shamed himself.  He shook his head.  "Oh, God, I'm so sorry".

The door opened, and a bell rung letting them know someone had walked into the shop.  A tall, muscular sheriff's deputy walked in.  The woman's husband began to speak in a quiet voice... she walked over to him, placed her hand on his arm.

"This young man came into our shop... as he went to leave, the door closed on his hand.  We didn't know how to handle it, and wanted an officer present".  The officer walked over to the young man... the woman saw him begin shaking his head.  He was going to tell the officer what really happened.

The woman walked over to him, hugged the young man.  "I'm so sorry you hurt your hand.  We need to see that it gets fixed".  She looked into his eyes as he began to speak once more... she intensified her expression, communicated 'don't say another word'!

"Officer, thank-you for coming out.  We will take him to the emergency room to get his hand taken care of."  The deputy looked at her, trying to make sure everything was okay.  He looked at her husband... saw on his face that everything really was okay.  He told them if they needed him, to call.  He turned, left.

When the officer left, the young man broke down crying.  He told them he was so sorry, he would make it up to them.  The older woman stood looking at him... with a smile on her face... no glint in her eyes.  She began patting his shoulder, saying "everything is going to be alright".

The young man looked at both the older man, woman.  He knew they were special... he knew this was meant to be.  He knew somehow, he'd just become a positive part of their life... they, his.  He vowed to himself that he'd prove to them ... he wasn't a bad person.  He'd listened to the wrong crowd.  He was going to spend his life making up to them what he'd done.

He was thinking, also... how the older man had been in front of him... hiding his real self.  He was like a book... maybe a little 'old, worn' on the outside, not especially interesting.  The young man thought about how the man handled himself... who would have thought.

He was a strong older man... he could kick ass!  His wife... she could hold her own, too.  Yet... they both 'didn't look like it'.  They appeared just normal, everyday people... maybe like 'easy prey' if someone wanted to rob them...

Who would have thought 'there was more to the eye... sitting there... hiding in plain view'?

Note:  This story is from my imagination as I practiced writing.... the only thing true, not changed.... are the doughnuts.  :)))

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Sunday, October 27, 2013

The Invisible Weight I Carry On My Shoulders...

The Invisible Weight I Carry On My Shoulders...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Yesterday morning I got up thinking I'm going to feel good.  I fed our Pups, and went to my wonderful shower all know my love for warm, soapy water!  Bubbles from my perfumed soaps, the beautiful scents....

I took my shower using the bar of Dial soap my husband gave to me over a week ago.  For some reason I've been using that bar of soap every day since he gave it to me.  Normally, I would use my perfumed soaps.  I keep trying to hold onto a memory from my childhood... 'why'?  I just don't really know.

Once the Dial soap is wet, the scent instantly takes me back to when I was a little girl.  It takes me always to the home of my cousins who lived next door to my Grandma Alma and George's.

The big, sparkling white bathroom... lots of little kids running around squealing with happiness.  Some of them getting into that big porcelain bathtub of nice, warm water to take their baths... some of them getting out.  There were alot of soapy washcloths hanging on the side of the tub, in the tub.

I can see little drops of water dripping from washcloths onto the sparkling, white tile floor.  The window was open, a breeze blowing the curtain...  I can see the sun shining... all of these things making that moment a wonderful memory in my mind.

How as a little girl I wished to be in that wonderful, warm tub of soapy water... before I was thrown to hell... I knew how it felt to play in my own tub with warm, soapy water.

Remember ... I couldn't take nice baths like that once I had to come to Grandma Alma and George's to live.  I would go into the bathroom on their back porch in fear of something jumping on me, something getting on me.  It was scary.

I would stand at their white porcelain tub, and wish to bathe in warm, soapy water.  I would turn the handle to make the water come on... I never understood 'why' it was always cold.  Not knowing any better, I would try sometimes to get into the cold water to take a warm bath... always coming out of it, freezing to death.

As a little girl, I just didn't know how to make that water warm.  I didn't know that Grandma Alma and George only had cold water.  If I had known that, I still wouldn't have known 'why', I was too young to understand.

My whole world changed to a life I didn't know, wasn't used to.  No longer was there someone to cook, clean the home I lived in, to care for me, dress me.  I was having to do this for myself at the age of nine.

George, who was blind, would tell me what to do.... Grandma Alma would tell me to come to her, she would take her one good hand to try and help me to dress each day.  As time went by there, all of my beautiful school dresses, shoes changed to clothes I wasn't used to wearing.  I know I must have looked like a little orphan back then... I was an orphan,

I was a thrown-away child.  Sometimes, I was wanted only to be thrown away again.  My mother couldn't maintain a stable life for herself, much less having a child to care for.

Grandma Alma and George didn't have money to buy me things, much less to buy their food, pay their bills, and pay the milkman (how well I remember the milk there... that's 'why' I don't 'see' milk today... no one was allowed to drink the milk... it was for my Grandma Alma.  She was paralyzed, sick... needed it.  I learned to never see it in the refrigerator.  I 'can't see' milk today in our refrigerator.

My Grandma Alma and George... I can't tell you how much I loved them.  I loved seeing their smiles, hearing them laugh.  I can see in my mind's eye... George sitting there with a light in his sightless eyes, his round belly shaking as he laughed... sometimes he'd slap his knee when he was really tickled.

My Grandma Alma's smile was something else... it made one feel so 'loved'.  Her eyes would soften when she looked at me, or at any of her grandchildren.  She was like a fierce lioness where her grandchildren were concerned... even paralyzed she'd 'fight' from that chair that held her hostage for over twenty years... to protect her grandchildren.  She threw 'many a glass of water' from that chair... it was her 'ammunition'.

How sad... how funny it was to a little, frightened girl who would be crouched behind Grandma Alma's rocking recliner chair... Grandma Alma would dare someone 'to touch that child'... if they even made an advance to come closer... my beautiful Grandma Alma would throw that water in their face!  My Grandma Alma loved me with her heart.

The sunshine would shine in that 'house that was the portal to hell' when my Grandma Alma and George would smile.  It just never lasted long enough.... it was as if that house wouldn't let happiness dwell there long.  Hell-raising would break out constantly there... life was pure hell there.  For a little innocent child that was 'thrown to the lions', it was truly a nightmare.

I learned that 'I didn't smell good anymore' from some of my classmates.  How does a child know these things?  I learned the hard way so much in my life.  How so innocent I was... how 'so unknowing I was as a little girl'.  I still feel 'embarassed' in today's time as an older woman...

Grandma Alma and George did the very best they could... she was paralyzed, he was blind.

The positive about all the negative, painful life I had was/is that once I learned, I never forgot.  Think of getting a powerful shock from high voltage everytime you learn something... the life lessons I learned almost ...always hurt 'that bad'.  If you don't want to feel pain... don't do it again.

You better learn as fast as you can because 'it's going to hurt, hurt bad'... if you don't!  I really always tried to learn 'once I became aware of 'what it was' that I needed to learn.  I hurt... alot.

For a moment I stop to think, try to 'see a little closer' into that time... I wonder 'who' brushed my hair, or if it was brushed, then?

I have to step back in my mind... it really hurts when I try to 'go close', my stomach gets a strange feeling.  Many things in my life make me feel like that... I have alot that 'I can't remember' for the pain it causes me.

Once I begin thinking 'beyond' the wonderful memory of my cousins bathing in the Dial soap 'back then'... I begin to feel that sick sensation inside.  I just wanted to remember the memory of the 'happy' time.

I showered, dressed and left to go to Walmart to pick up chews for Mr. Kissy, and Chadwick.  Kissy has to have his chew every night so, he can relax and settle down to sleep.  A chew is his pacifier. He is a big, spoiled Rottie puppy.

Some days are very hard for me, today seemed to be one of them.  Not only did my body hurt... my 'mind' hurt, too.

As the morning progressed, the more 'weight' I felt sitting on my shoulders.  I began to feel disoriented, so weak from carrying such a load. I really didn't feel like talking, smiling... I was proud that I did, though.

That's how I can fool people into thinking I am just fine... that way no one will look closely at me... I can go on my way until I make it home to... just 'simply be'.

I just wanted to get home, out of sight from everyone before they noticed that I wasn't walking tall... my shoulders were being pressed down by the weight on them.

I laid down on the bed, Kissy and Chadwick jumped up to lay beside me.  They knew it was unusual for me to lay down, I don't usually give up so easily.  They loved the opportunity to be lay close to me, and sleep.  How they comfort me, I let my hand, my foot touch both of them as I slept to get away from the pain in my mind, body.

I wonder 'if' anyone can ever 'see' the huge, heavy weight I carry?  For a moment, I will find humor here... not the extra weight that I am working at losing... :)))

I'm talking about the invisible weight that sometimes threatens to crush me into the ground... I'm very strong because I carry it each day.  Some days it isn't as 'heavy'.  Yesterday, it was almost more than I could carry.

Grief... that's what the weight is... pure, pure grief.  Sometimes it can get the best of me.  Sometimes I think I can talk about Tommy and think how well I did... when I get alone, something happens inside me.

It did this morning.  I was happy I could speak about Tommy, it was one of those times I didn't feel like I would cry.  I spoke to two people I knew, about Tommy.

I told them a little about his 'last' trip to the ocean, how I worried about him and his family getting there safely that Memorial Day weekend...... how I relaxed and was so glad.  How... I got 'that phone call' from a stranger......... after that I stopped, I couldn't talk about it anymore.

How nice they were, they both hugged me not knowing how that touched my heart, how that meant alot to me at that moment.  I told them that I write, that normally I don't talk about things and 'why I chose to at that moment'... I just didn't know.

When I left there, the weight I felt pressing on my shoulders became 'heavier'.... I felt my heart begin to hurt, the tears begin to make my eyes burn, the pain in my throat began... all I wanted to do was to get home.

Grief, something so invisible, something you can't hold in your hand, has the power to cause such physical pain.  No one can see you being hurt by it, being attacked by it.... they stand there not knowing you are 'being torn apart, devoured by it'.

'If all of a sudden' they could see 'grief' as it really was, they would see a person being shred to pieces in front of their eyes.  But.. they can't see the gaping wounds, scars left from each time ... grief strikes.

The strange thing is that a person, 'me'... can stand there and smile... no one the wiser... as I'm being 'cut to pieces, shredded' by the grief that follows my every step.

Picture in your mind standing still while wild animals were ripping your flesh... to keep anyone from knowing the pain you were experiencing... you just smile, pretend everything is alright... while you are 'bleeding to death'.... and the pain... oh my God, the pain.

When I finally got home, came inside... I walked to the bedroom, debated with myself about 'giving up' and just going to bed.  This time... I had to give up, I fluffed my pillows to lay my head on... as I laid down on the comforter I was pulling the quilt up to my chin to 'comfort me'... like my mama used to do to me each night as a little girl.... before 'I went to hell'.

I was so thankful to be to myself, where no one could see me as I laid down beneath the weight of my ... grief.  Pure, pure grief.  I felt I could no longer hold it up... I had to lay down to rest from it.

I felt tears on my eyelashes as I closed my eyes... tears of relief that I could finally just be in the darkness for a little while... the kind of darkness that was comforting to me now.... sleep.

It's strange ... when we see something heavy trying to crush a person... everyone runs to rescue them.  It's strange because when something heavy is crushing someone that can't be seen... how can anyone run to rescue them?  The weight is just as great.

Grief.... the weight one carries inside, on their shoulders that can't be seen.  I suffer in silence as it hurts me, crushes me... with a smile on my face while I let you know that I am fine, all is well, my tears and red eyes are from allergies I suffer... I stand there with such a heavy weight on my shoulders, no one can help me... they can't see it.

I have tried once again to 'put grief into words'... you can't see how heavy it is, you may sometimes see my shoulders looking stooped from the weight.  I try to hold them high, straight... if I'm not careful, the weight will pull them down again.

Tommy... I just miss my son.  I miss his sunshine smile, the sound of his voice, his laughing eyes, his funny jokes, hearing his cowardly lion laugh, even when he liked to take his big hand (he was so much taller than I)... and put it on top of my head and mess my hair up!  He would say 'mama, you have hair all over your head'!  I didn't like him to mess my hair up... but, I'd be so glad for him to mess it up now.

This is 'why' I carry that invisible weight on my shoulders, that pain.  Only I am aware of it, because I 'feel' it... I can't see it, either.  But, it's there... always there.  Can you see the weight I carry on my shoulders?

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Saturday, October 26, 2013

I Fought For My Life... In The Dark!

I Fought My Life...  In The Dark!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I was tired, I just wanted to get into the house, and go to my bed and sleep.  Sleep for as long as I wanted to.  My bed wasn't far from me, now... it was just inside the door... go through the living room, go to my bedroom.

All I had to do was to unlock the door, go in... change to my nightgown... and jump into bed.  Simple as that!

I breathed a sigh of relief... as my key unlocked the door.  I smiled... I was ... home at last!  Oh my... I couldn't wait to step into the living room, close and lock the front door behind me.

I stepped inside... it was very dark.  I was reaching for the light switch, feeling so happy to be home.

All of a sudden, I was fighting for my life!  I screamed over, and over!  Help me!  Please help me!   Someone was pulling my hair from above... they had to be taller than I was.  I knew no one would hear my cries... no one would come to help me!

I fought to pull my head, my hair out of their hands.  The grip was too strong as I pulled my head away from them!  I was trying to run!  I couldn't comprehend what was happening!  My hair was grabbed again... I'm going to die!  Oh, God... I'm going to die!

I reached out for the light switch... not knowing who I was going to see!  I couldn't imagine.... I kept striking out to make contact with whoever it was holding me by my hair, pulling my hair!

The light switch came on, I spun around!  No body was... there!  No body was there!  I kept spinning, ready to fight for my life... no one was there!  My hair was still being pulled, pressure was on my head!

I began grabbing at my thick, curly hair!  All of a sudden, my hair was released!  Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  Something big flew off ... what in the world!?

I couldn't believe my eyes!  An owl landed on the counter top that separated the kitchen, and living room!  An owl!  An owl was in my house!  How did that owl... get in the house?!

I pushed the front door open.... then, I began to make my way to the pantry... I wanted the broom.  I didn't want to hurt the owl... I just wanted to have the straw part of the broom to help 'guide' it out the front door!

I jumped as that big bird moved... I was holding my breath.  I was ready to begin screaming again.  I stayed close to the wall, my eyes darting to the big owl, and to where that broom was.

The owl flew up from the counter... I began screaming as its big wings came close to my head.  It was going to grab me by my hair again!   I put my hands over my head as I ducked down....

That big-ass owl flew out the front door into the night!  I ran, closed the door, locked it tight!  It was not coming back in!

I stood there, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.  I felt my head where my hair had been pulled.  I felt to see if there was blood.  The pain was horrific!

I began shuddering as both my hands held my head, felt my thick, curly hair... my hands went to my eyes.  I pressed them hard over my eyes.  I kept thinking how grateful I was that I wasn't being murdered, raped... that I'd been attacked by ... only an ... owl!
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Thursday, October 24, 2013

Writing In The Sand...

Writing In The Sand...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/Granny Gee

She sat playing on her tablet. She downloaded an app called ' Writing In The Sand.'

She used her finger to write her name in fancy print. She swirled her finger to make scurvy lines beneath her name.

She clicked above on the upper left side of the tablet to erase hued name.
'I LOVE YOU... SKIP' appeared on the screen. She clicked above to erase the words.

Her finger traced out a flower with six petals. She drew out a stem; she drew three leaves on it... then, she clicked to erase it.

She began writing... 'I LOVE YOU, SON. I MISS YOU WITH MY VERY HEART'.
If anyone was looking at the woman sitting there in the black pickup truck... they would see just an ordinary woman sitting there playing on her tablet. No one would ever guess how 'unordinary' this woman was.

No one would see the grief, nor feel the strange sensation in the woman's stomach. No one would see the quick tears fill her eyes. At a distance, she seemed to be absorbed in what she was doing.

The woman looked at the words she wrote with her fingers 'in the sand.' She took her pink stylus, raised it to upper left corner, clicked... erasing the ... pain... she'd wrote.

She lowered the tablet to her lap... she raised her head, looked off in the distance. She looked past the trees to the sky, her mind following her eyes.

She sat there, unaware of the tears in her eyes. She sat there lost in the past... no longer aware of the present.

In her mind... all kinds of things were happening. If one looked closely at the woman... they might see a smile appear, a frown. They might see the tears begin to flow in earnest down her face. They would see her hand reach up absent-mindedly ... touch her face, rub the tears away.

If someone watched long enough... they would see the woman's shoulders shaking; see her place her hand on her chest, above her heart. See her lips move... not hear the words she cries out silently.

No one would ever know, understand what they seeing. How could they? Their eyes would see only an older woman sitting alone, waiting for someone... quietly.

The woman smiled as the sound of the door alerted her... her husband was opening it. He got inside the pickup truck... smiled at her never knowing what she had been through while he was gone. She never told him... they were very close; he would worry, be upset.

She kept smiling, talking about ordinary things. Skip, her husband... would never know how far she traveled, as she waited for him.

He would never know that she wrote her grief ... as she was writing in the sand.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Angolan Witch Spider ... Giant Spider Is Going To Eat You, And Your Dog! Oh! Your Cat, Too!

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Angolan Witch Spider - Giant Spider Is Going To Eat You, And Your Dog!  Oh!  Your Cat, Too!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I looked in awe at a photo shown to me, today.  Oh, my God!  They are coming this way... and they are eating our dogs, cats... our precious pets!   In my mind, I was visualizing that everyone was going to have to have big guns to protect themselves from this... 'enemy'.  Oh, my God!  It is as big as the side of the house, and it's not common here.

It was already in Texas... and 'coming our way'!!!  The Angolan Witch Spider... is coming our way... which means we still have time before it gets here.  We live in North Carolina!   Just several states over from that big thing!

I handed the photo back.  I, now... had some food for thought!  All day... I thought about this big spider.  You know that I am afraid of spiders... don't you laugh, because I 'just know' a lot of you are, too!  Think about it... a spider as big as the side of a house!  That's a 'big-ass' spider!   I don't run... but, I'm sure I could learn to very fast.  Run like the wind!  Fly like a bird!  Flow like a fast-moving river!  I would get the heck out of Dodge.  I can't take a spider as big as a ... dime.  What do you think I'd do... when it's big as a house?  

Tonight ... I got to thinking about the photo of that big-ass spider (yes, it really was a big-ass spider!  I have to tell you so, you'll know I'm being for-real!)  I decided to check it out on the computer.  Well... this is what I found out.

I found the very photos of that Angolan Witch Spider!  We have three precious pups... I don't want spiders to come this way... eat my pups up!  I've got to protect them!  What was that?  I saw something ... words close by this particular photo... hoax?

Hoax?  I was praying for it to be a hoax!  Everyone knows that in Florida... all those things there... isn't a hoax.  Those big-ass snakes, lizards and gizzards, rats, and God knows what!  They ARE real... plus the alligators, and crocodiles... oh my!  It's dangerous 'down there'!  I just couldn't live there now... oh!  There are those pigs that will 'get you', too!  Damn (oh yes, I said that word!)... just coming out of your door to walk to your car is dangerous!  Those things won't only get your pets, they will 'get you', too!

It's a dangerous world out there... and I'm so thankful to find out that the Angolan Witch Spider... isn't real?  I mean... it could have been true, sure enough!  These days... anything 'can be'... nothing would surprise me.  

This evening for a short time... 'before I really knew'.... I got to know how it felt to dread 'those Angolan Witch Spiders were coming our way'!  I got to know how it felt to know... they were not only coming here... but, they could eat me, and my dogs (and cats)!  Hey... I was worried about 'you', too!  They could eat you, and your dog... too!  Oh, and your cat, too!
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Saturday, October 19, 2013

Today, Old Friends Made New Memories... 2013 NC State Fair

Today, Old Friends Made New Memories... 2013 NC State Fair

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Ms Nancy... Skip (top left photo)
Gloria ... and Skip (bottom middle photo)

Ms Nancy and I split the sloppy joe doughnut in half... we wanted to taste the concoction to see if we liked it... oh yes!  It really was good!  Who would have thought a glazed doughnut... would taste good with ... sloppy joe meat mixture!

Near by in the restaurant, stood a group of young people.  They asked us how did it taste... we told them it was indeed... good.  They were trying the deep-fried oreos, and the hamburger on a doughnut.  They loved it all!  Who would have thought?

Skip didn't try anything 'different, unusual'.  :)))  Skip isn't adventurous like I am... he loves everything to be the same... not different.  Myself... just give me 'different'... as long as it's good.  Ms Nancy is like myself... we are going to experiment to see if we like something.

Skip got a plain barbeque sandwich... he had to put his own hot sauce on it.

Later, I got what I came to the North Carolina State Fair for... a 'sausage dog with fried onions, sweet green pepper'.  I squeezed out a thick line of yellow mustard on top... and proceeded to eat, savor something I waited a year for.  Sure, I could have bought the sausages during the year, and fried up pepper, onions.... but, that isn't like getting it from the .... State Fair!

Ms Nancy, and Skip decided to split a funnel cake.  Now... I'm not a 'funnel cake person'.  :)))  I did taste a little piece... it was a little too brittle... maybe it was cooked just a tad too long.

Later, Ms Nancy found the perfect place to get a nice hamburger.  She enjoyed it very much.  She ate it the way we grew up eating hamburgers... mustard, pickles, chili... I don't think she got onions... I would have asked for onions.  :)))

We walked into the crafts building, looked at beautiful handmade things.  Ms Nancy found 'maple' cotton candy to take home to someone.  She was happy to find it!  We were looking everywhere.

We walked by the most elaborate display of .... every kind of candied apples I'd never seen, nor heard of!  Oh my... on some display shelves were the biggest candied apples... mounds of white, dark chocolate shaped like the apple ...hidden inside... some rolled in various kinds of nuts; some rolled in coconut.

Designs were made on the outside with other candies, some even had potato chips on top!  Imagine 'giant' candied apples not 'red'; but, decorated, hardened chocolates designed so beautiful... that it's hard to take the first bite.  Oh... you wouldn't believe how 'expensive' each were.  Have you ever paid $8.00 for an.... apple?  We didn't... either.  I just got a plain caramel apple rolled in cashews.

We walked to where the giant pumpkins... giant watermelons were.  I was so amazed.  So, many beautiful colors!  So, many kinds of vegetables.  I loved the colors... I stood looking trying to 'absorb the wonderful colors'.  The weather has been gloomy for two weeks now... you can't imagine how wonderful it was for me... to see all these beautiful... happy colors!

We walked by a 'bakery'.  The display cabinet held shelves of the most special-looking breads!  Different colors, shapes... all begging to be taken home... spread with butter, eaten!  :)))  I love bakery breads!  I love how they are displayed behind glass in baskets... fat loaves, skinny loaves.... we didn't buy any of the beautiful breads.  I'm sure they were too expensive... Skip bakes beautiful breads when he is in the mood.

We went to the livestock exhibit.... beautifully groomed animals were in their fences.  There were cows, sheep, goats.  In one fence was a mother brahman cow... with her baby... oh my, how beautiful they were!  They seemed so 'special'..... maybe because I'm not used to seeing them.

We saw baby chicks, baby pigs, rabbits, and one huge turkey!  We watched cows taking their showers... they were shampooed, rinsed.  I was glad it wasn't too cold for them... today was a little cool, especially with the breeze blowing.

We went by the WRAL 5 tent, we met Faye Prosser... and Tara Lynn.  We enjoyed talking to both of them.

We stopped by the Kerr Drug tent... where Skip and I saw Heather... a friend... she is going to be a pharmacist.  She gave Skip and I ... a flu shot.  Ms Nancy didn't get one.

We walked to the huge... tall water fountain.  The water flowed swiftly down in one giant sheet, splashing into the pool of water below.  The breeze made the mist blow out on people as they walked, or sat close by.

Near the fountain was a stage.... on the stage was a band playing some good rock music.  The music lured, seduced us... until we found ourselves standing 'there'... moving our heads, shoulders to the beat.

Ms Nancy and I began grinning... we danced to music as little girls... and now, in our 'older years'... there we were listening to good music, and mock-dancing.  How funny that was! :)))  We really wanted 'to get down, rock and roll, dance to music'... but, you know... our minds could do it... but, I'm not sure what our bodies would have done ...if we allowed ourselves to ... dance!

We might have been 'dancing fools'... 'dancing grannies'... but, we just kept the beat, instead!  We laughed at each other!  Fun!

We saw a huge 'red' Christmas tree... it was absolutely beautiful.  There were other evergreen trees decorated for Christmas, also.

We found ourselves sitting on a bench.... people-watching.  We rested for a while, and watched the many people who walked, ran by.  I kept thinking how 'we were so many people with the same things... heads, faces, arms, legs, hair... and we all looked... different!  Isn't that truly amazing?

I loved watching the clothes that walked by me... the colors, textures, designs.  I loved how some women wore them beautifully... and really how some didn't... yet, they looked... okay.  I watched the pretty clothes worn by little girls.

A family stopped close by us to use the ATM machine.  One of the little girls had on a dress that was sort of like a sweat shirt in the softest, prettiest, pastel colors.  She had on a pair of pink boots.  She looked so 'cozy', comfortable.

I dreamed of being a fashion designer as a young girl... I made bad decisions as a young girl.  I never got to live my dream.  Though, I didn't... I have always appreciated the beauty of design in clothing; the textures, colors.  I pay attention to details... how people walked, wore their clothes.  I looked at their faces to see if they dressed like their look 'matched' them.  It's a fun thing I do... I wish I'd lived my dream as a young woman...  of course, it's too late 'to go back'....

We rested long enough... walked the rest of the way to my Expedition... I call it 'my truck'.  We were very tired from our day at the NC State Fair.  Each of us were happy that we came.

Skip and I haven't been going to anything special at this time of the year that we truly love... since Tommy died.  This year is going to be different.... I want to be around happy, special things... see soft, wonderful lights.  I want to hear the happy sounds of the holidays that are on the way.  I want us to cook special meals, enjoy them this year.  Everything is going to be all right... I'm going to be all right, 'now'....

Ms Nancy, you helped to make our State Fair experience a special one this year.  Skip and I are glad we all shared it together... we made a nice memory.  It was fun to finally get to spend some time together... laughing, talking... just being together with a special friend!

This is the year... Skip and I, and Ms Nancy went to the North Carolina State Fair.  It was a wonderful experience!  Today... old friends made new memories!

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Life... Invisible

Life... Invisible
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I was thinking something very strange tonight. 

Truthfully, I've never thought of anything like this... 'before' tonight. 

I was thinking how I have fought my many Life Battles... and since I'm here at this very moment... that means 'I won them'.

I'm a survivor of many 'bad things' that have happened in my life.  I'm so grateful to be here... I love to live.  The one time I wouldn't have cared if I died or not... was when my son died, three years ago.  I would have never known if I'd died.  I was in the darkest world possible...

I was trapped in my grief, pain.  I didn't know when the sun was shining... or what was going on around me.  I was drowning in the Ocean of Grief... my husband, Skip, kept throwing lifesavers to save me.  He did... Skip is my hero, my best friend, my precious husband.

I was thinking tonight... and picturing in my mind.... hospital rooms.  Each hospital room has a patient who is battling to live... their room became their 'battlefield' to survive.  Ever so often, a nurse... doctor, nursing assistant... visitors come to these rooms for one reason or other...never realizing what they are doing.

They never realize that they've entered a battle-zone... they have stepped onto the roads in life where the patient is at that time... to fight for his life.  They walk here, there in that area... never feeling a thing.  Isn't it strange?  They are in the midst of a battle-zone... yet, all is 'invisible'.  They aren't seeing what is actually happening as they are with the patient.

It's strange... a person is actually fighting a battle, struggling to live... yet, no one can 'see the battle' going on.  No one saw my battles when I fought them... they were invisible. 

People walked across my 'battle-fields', never knowing what they were doing.  They walked on, off my paths I traveled to live, traveled to get to another path in Life.  All ... invisible.

When I came out of each terrible battle... no one could see what I'd just come through.  As long as they never had to experience a battle in life... there's no way they could understand these words... there's no way they could see the 'roads/paths' I was on ... my battlefields... yet, they may have walked on them to pass me by... to get 'to where they were going'.

Have you ever thought about such?  I never have ...until tonight.  Of course, patient and their hospital rooms 'aren't the only battlefields'... I used that for an example. 

Everywhere in this world... people are struggling to survive 'bad things'... their battle-field could be anywhere/anything.  There are people who are just innocently crossing 'in the line of fire'... never seeing, feeling anything. 

It's something to think about... I promise you won't forget what I wrote after reading this.... you will probably try to 'see/feel' when you are aware of crossing over someone else's battlefield, their paths in Life to get to a good place for them. 

Many people have crossed my battle-fields, my many paths in Life... I've watched them sometimes... they never saw, or felt a thing.  They just didn't know... this is life invisible.


Tuesday, October 15, 2013

The Ugly Side Of Grief...

The Ugly Side Of Grief...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

This is 'why' I grieve... I'm sorry, son... I feel 'ugly, angry grief' ... this morning.  I can't seem to help it.  I wish I was 'perfect'... I would grieve in the most beautiful way for you... with no ugly, mean thoughts toward the ones who hurt you when you lived.  I'm just a 'mother'... doing the best I can with this grief 'inside me'... it has no where to go... no one can help me.  I'm trapped with my 'ugly', as well as... positive grief for you.  My consolation is that 'normally'... I am not 'feeling the ugly grief'.  This morning... is different ... I 'am' feeling it.

The very last photo of my son, Tommy... only a short time 'that fateful evening'... he died.  My son is gone now.... he isn't coming back.  Why do I keep having to tell myself that?  Don't 'I' know that?

Write the pain, write the pain, write the pain.....  I repeat this like a mantra in my mind.... 'write the pain'....

The pain is 'trapped' inside me... I have to move... I can't sit still with it.  Oh, God... please help me.  Please make it just 'wash back into the ocean of grief'... please give me relief.

I woke up this morning at 4:30 am.  Things were on my mind... you know how it is... you can't go back to sleep.  The longer you lay there... is just torment.  Get up!  Get up!  I can't take it anymore!

Here I am... once again ... trapped with my very own feelings.  Feelings of pure grief...  overwhelming grief.  I want to cry... why do I have to feel like this?

Haven't I accepted that Tommy's not coming back?  Haven't I accepted the death of my son, my only child?  So... why?  Why, should I have to feel this grief inside.  I can hardly bear it... I just can't stand much of this...

I am here, writing the pain.  I always tell you how grief really feels... I won't sugar-coat it.  It's ugly, it's awful... at the moment, I feel like crying to the heavens above... Tommy's gone.

Why would I do that?  What would it get me?  Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.  There's not a 'damn' thing I can do to bring my son back.  So, 'why?'... am I feeling like this... this morning.

Oh God... I think I even feel some 'anger'.  My head hurts ... my eyes burn.  I want to just cry... but, I'm not.  I'm just not going to do it.  I don't see as it can help me at all... it could only make me look bad all day.... Skip would be upset to see me so sad.  I have to push it back... I just have to push it back.

Damn it... damn it.  Yes... I said that... I will say it one more time... 'damn' it.  The mood I'm in... I'll say it 'a lot of times'... it doesn't matter to me at the moment.  I even feel ... defiant... 'damn it'.

You see... this is the 'ugly side of grief'... this is the side of grief no one hears about.  This is where a mother feels anger, grief all at the same time... and she thinks some really 'mean things'.  She looks back in her mind.... angry at people she knows who caused grief to her child 'before' they died.  They... think it's all forgotten... it isn't.  I assure you... it isn't... won't never be...

I look back at two people in my mind... I laid in bed this morning thinking about both.  How one of them is a 'puppeteer master'... pulling the strings of the 'dumber' puppet who can't make decisions on her own.  Who has been the 'victim' of the other ... hoping one day they'll get money... that is probably gone... long gone.  It should have been given... three years ago.

I feel anger that the puppeteer master 'thinks' she's deceived me, also.  I didn't come from Hell for nothing... I'm not dumb.  I 'know' probably more than she knows about what she has done... are doing 'now'.  I know she doesn't know that 'now'... I know more.

The strange thing is ... I love the dumbass, and the puppeteer master.  One thinks she's so smart... and the other...... isn't very smart at all... never has been.  She can't help it.  Dense-minded... especially to fail a driving test 'ten' times...

I don't associate with these two people... I don't know that I ever want to.  I do 'know' them... they have no reason to be in my life.  The times they were... they brought only pure grief.

Grief... anger.  When your child dies, and things weren't right in a lot of ways... strings not tied... conflict to cause your child grief.... this is bound to happen.

No matter who is to blame... it will happen.  I'm proof... and I'm about 'as nice of person you'll ever meet'.... but, for the moment... you are witnessing the 'ugly side of grief'...


I told you that I'm far from perfect... though I try to be the very best I can be... I'm guilty of having mean thoughts, too.  No matter that later... I feel bad for doing it... I can still have 'mean thoughts'... I'm not perfect... I have no excuse... I don't even... apologize.  It's ... human.  I'm just 'like you'... I'm real.
No matter what... you aren't going to feel 'beautiful grief'... it's ugly, it's sad... and.. only too real.  Gloria Faye Brown Bates

Monday, October 14, 2013

Short Like Me...

Short Like Me...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee...   I'm short... don't get me wrong ...I love people my height... it just felt strange for everyone to 'be short all at one time'...... :)))

I was walking around in amazement... at Walmart, of all places.  I looked all around me... I didn't believe what I was seeing.  To see a face... I didn't have to 'look far'... they were 'all on my level'.

As I walked, I looked all around to see a 'tall' person.  Ah... there's Skip... he's the tallest person I see.  I can't believe all 'these short people'... 'short people'... like me.  I felt uncomfortable.  How did everyone get to be so short.  Was today a 'short' day?  What's going on?

No... I just couldn't believe it.  Their legs were no longer than mine.  In fact, some legs were 'shorter'.... How come I was uncomfortable with people 'my height'?  Why did 'short' affect me like that?  I am 'that short'.  When I say short, I mean like 5 feet, 2 inches short.

Every aisle I turned down... everyone was the same height.  Was someone playing a trick on me?  How did they know I was coming to 'that Walmart'?  We don't usually go to the same one everytime.

I just couldn't take it... I'm short, but... I can't be around a lot of short people at one time.  I want to close my eyes... it make me dizzy.  I like 'different'... all sizes of people around me.  It balances out 'everything'.

Don't ask me 'why?'  It's just the way it was.  Everyone today was ... short like me.