I WAS LIKE A WHITE WALL... BLANK

I WAS LIKE A WHITE WALL... BLANK

LAST PHOTO TAKEN OF TOMMY JUST A SHORT WHILE BEFORE HE COLLAPSED, DIED ON THE SAND AT MYRTLE BEACH... MAY 29, 2010.......

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/aka GRANNY GEE

I'm more concerned about her than you at the present.  I could hear her though, my eyes were in another world seeing the worst grief, pain... that was mine... I couldn't see her.

Skip wanted me by his side constantly after Tommy's death.  Just after Tommy died... Skip kept a doctor's appointment, he took me along.  I say 'took me along'... when I look back... that's what he did... 'took me along'.  I was light as a leaf, floated to where I was moved................ I 'floated' to the doctor's appointment with him.

How I knew to sit down, or to walk, or to do anything... I must have done it all from... lifelong habit.  I didn't think of how to do anything... I was like a white wall... I was ..blank.

His doctor talked to me... I couldn't talk alot, my son had just died several days ago.  I was on medicine ... it was more powerful than I... Skip said he had to listen, watch to see if I was breathing when I slept.  He was afraid for me.  I was afraid of.... nothing... I was 'nothing'.......

I was walking in 'darkness'... if one could see my colors 'then'..... they were the blackest of black color.  There were no happy colors in that world, none at all.   When my mind tried to come back to the real world, it quickly went back to this world for comfort, for being able to hide in it ...hide from facing the knowledge ... 'Gloria, your baby, your only child.... your son is.... DEAD'.

As I write this very moment, I feel the cold chill of ... death.  I feel such grief wanting to rip itself from my chest... it's been two years now.... that grief is still there.  I feel sometimes that I could scream.... and never stop.......... T0M-MMMMY!  PLEASE COME BACK!  PLEASE COME BACK!  PLEASE-EEEEE..................

I always have to push, tuck the pain in just as a mother gently tucks a child in bed.... just as I remember my mama tucking me in bed at night as a little girl.  She would pull the blankets up to my ears... to make sure I was warm, cosy.  Mama, how I miss you, how I loved you.

I am crying now... again.  I'm so thankful for computers... one can write at their worst... the world no wiser.  Damn... damn... damn... yes, I am saying that word ... again.  Damn!  I am feeling anger for a moment... I'm really, really mad... I don't have my son anymore... and it hurts........... damn bad!  It hurts just so bad.  My own mind hurts me when it tells 'me'..... 'Gloria, your son is... dead, face it'!

You can't imagine the pain .... two years later... it's really still 'there'.  What is so strange, is... when I was at Skip's appointment... I did hear her say ... 'she'll be alright in two weeks'....... I couldn't see her but, I heard that doctor say in two weeks I would get over this... be alright.  Is there wrong with me... because it's been.... two YEARS... I didn't get alright in two weeks.

Oh yes, I can go through everyday being 'normal', fool everyone into thinking everything is just lovely, now... but, there's no denying the pain that lives inside my 'self.... mind.... heart'...... it's there, still 'new'.... even after two years.

People just seem to think after 'this long' ... a mother should be completely recovered... until it is 'them'.  I would laugh at 'them' if I hadn't experienced what I have, know how it feels.... all I can say is to be careful what you say.... it 'does come back to you'......... 'please be careful what you say... it really does come back to you'.  I've seen it since in these two years... I 'see your grief'... you've forgotten your words about mine, now.

It was Skip's appointment, yet... the doctor wanted to talk to me.  She wanted to find out all the details of what happened to my son.  I'm sure she couldn't wait to tell members of her staff all the details of the young man collapsing, dying on the beach while she was there on vacation.  Why... she had all the details now... 'from the horse's mouth'.  She took advantage of the situation for her own benefit.... the next time I was with Skip, she hardly remembered 'me'......................................

She.... and her family.... were at Myrtle Beach at the hotel next to where my son and his family had come to stay for a week.  She heard about what was happening on the beach.  'Now'... she actually was speaking with 'that person's' .... mother, his parents.

I vaguely remember trying to smile, but, I cried in front of her.  I tried not to cry in front of her... nor cry in front of anyone.  It is my way... 'Gloria's way'... don't cry in front of anyone... they misinterpret it as... weakness.

I was at my most weakest, it was the weakest I've ever been ... even when dying from cancer... at least I had a chance of 'coming back'.  Tommy couldn't come back, no matter what... Tommy couldn't come back!

The medicine took over for me.  I wasn't afraid, I wasn't.... anything.  I didn't feel... anything.  Thank-God.  When I tried not to take it... I couldn't cope with even a minute once I became aware of 'why' I was taking it.  I ran back to it just as a frightened child would run to its mother for comfort, protection.

I realize today 'looking back'... when on that medicine and not protected... a person is at the mercy of 'the world'.  You would give everything you had away without thought, you are most agreeable to everything.  Why... one can even smile at other people to keep from being impolite.... while your child lays dead in 'a box' close to you.  That's how powerful that medicine was.

For a moment... I allow myself to 'see to the right of me in that funeral home'.......... I see white light off to my right... I 'sort of see' Tommy's face, his hands together, lying there..... in that light... he's in that 'box' as Taban called it (it became 'box' once I heard him say that).  I hear myself whisper very softly... that's my baby, my child, my son... my head hurts..... I become 'white'... blank.. nothing... I'm going back to my cocoon of darkness.

I drifted all around that room, the whole while I could 'see to the right of me'... that 'box' that held my son.  'That Box'... held my son... for all those people to walk by, stare down at him, comment on 'how he looked'... how his neck looked swollen, how........................................................................ while.... while they were laughing, talking, visiting with each other.

It was like at a party?  My grandson wanted his daddy... he tried to climb up on the box to his daddy; my granddaughter was with her mother... I never heard her say 'daddy'.

I don't remember, I can't remember... strangers coming up to me, smiling at me, shaking my hand, telling me how they liked Tommy, telling me things that I can't... remember.

Deep breaths, I am having to take deep breaths as I remember, I can't breathe, my chest hurts alot.  I'm on the brink of crying, not being able to stop.  I have to 'let go' now... I will think about this again at a later time.

One tear just rolled down my cheek, I feel it as it does.  It's cold, sort of tickles my skin... not to make me laugh.  It's one of the many tears that are 'forever in me'... that is falling.  I just wiped it away.  My day has to go on now... it's almost time to put 'that happy face' on... smile at everyone so, that I don't affect their day in a negative way.  It also, makes me feel better.

I can't even remember the name of that medicine now.  I took it for several months, I slept in that world of deep darkness... I wonder if that's how we as unborn babies feel before we are... born.  'Nothing'... feel nothing.

Yesterday, I remembered some things I wished I hadn't remembered.  These things triggered emotions I am feeling this morning.  I feel at this very moment ... pure, white-hot grief, anger.  I, also, feel bad for 'feeling this way'... because no matter what I feel, do, say, think..... Tommy's not coming back.

I have to go forward... and be positive if I want to live out my life in a 'good' way.  I choose to do exactly this.  I have tried over and over to 'tell myself this'.... but, still at times... this happens.

Yesterday, one memory that surfaced to my mind... I voiced it to Skip... was of my fingers touching my son's head... sometimes, my fingers 'feel the scar, the stitches on his head'... I'm feeling that sensation of my fingers touching his head ...again.  It hurts me so bad.

I  rub my fingers on my other hand back and forth gently just to feel the smoothness of my skin... trying to make the memory of feeling the 'hard puckering of skin' between the stitches' on his head.... go away.  It tears at the inside of me, ripping pain that I can't describe.  I have to stop for now... I have to quit thinking of this... and 'for now' ... become like a white wall.... become 'blank'.........