Up There ... On Fairchild's Mountain

Up There On Fairchild's Mountain ...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

　

Long, winding dirt path up a little mountain

Rocks on both sides ... covered in lush, green moss

Trees growing tall to the sky ... patches of blue sky peeping through

Joy, peace of mind engulf one ... quietness, only the sound of birds

An occasional woodpecker knocking here ... there

Fairchild's Mountain ... I have many memories there

To the left of the path at the very top ... lies a small cemetery

Not for people ... for Pups, animals from the wild

All were loved by us ... from Pups to feral cats ... white possum

Sometimes, the road below claimed an animal we fed, loved

We would bring it up on top of Fairchild's Mountain

Lay it gently in its grave, cover it with soft dirt, blanket it with love

Lay a mound of rocks to protect the grave from other animals

I would stand there, sadness in my Heart for the loss of a life so special

Animals no one else in the world was aware of ... only Skip, myself knew they were there ... cared for, loved by us when they lived

In my mind, I visit Fairchild's Mountain, where we once lived

It's the last place I saw my son, only child ... Tommy

The evening before he died ... I see his smiling face, twinkling eyes

Hear his soft voice saying 'mama' ... strange, that evening

The very air about him was special ... golden, shining like the sun

Strange ... how people 'glow with beauty' ... before they die

Maybe I'm the only one who sees the 'glowing beauty' ... I'm not sure

I know I see it, feel it ... never realizing that soon ... that person would be gone

I've seen it over, and over ... somehow, I forget ... never feel alarm

Fairchild's Mountain was named after our big Rottweiler ... he ruled that mountain

His name was known far, and wide

He was huge ... beautiful, and to be 'woofed' by him was 'something'

I used to ride him around on a cobalt blue Volkswagon ... sun roof open

Fairchild sat in the back seat .... with his red bandana blowing in the wind

People wanted to pet Fairchild, he didn't want them near ... it didn't stop anyone from admiring him

There were a lot of good memories on Fairchild's Mountain

Sad ones, scary ones ... too

One being where I saw our mailbox murdered by a stranger

Strange people sometimes, rode up on Fairchild's Mountain

It was isolated, some came to see what they could see

Some came, hoping they could sit in peace, drink their spirits

I just became aware of soft music playing here, in Skip's study

My eyes have several sparkling, diamond teardrops in them

I think one slid down on my cheek ... leaving a cold path

Reaching up, the tips of my fingers brush it off, warm the skin

No longer feeling cold ... forgetting that I may have been crying

While in my mind, I was on Fairchild's Mountain ... visiting the past

Visiting with each loved animal buried in the cemetery ... each feral cat I fed for a year after we moved, here

Pain for so many animals I loved with my Heart ... so, many tears

Pain ... it's where I last saw Tommy's smile, heard his son voice saying 'mama' ... last saw him walking ... last time he hugged me ... last waved at him ... he waved to me, smiling, calling 'bye, mama, bye'!

Fairchild's Mountain ... there's so much in that name, place

Colors of my life are embedded in the rocks, trees ...in the very air, there

No one will ever see, know ... if they sense ... they will feel a soft specialness in the air ... love; grief from a mother who lost her son; beloved Pups ... wild animals

Since we moved from there ... we took the name with us

Making it impossible to ever know ... where ... Fairchild's Mountain was

Fairchild's Mountain is now, only a memory of many last memories of special events in my life

The first, last times I ever spent happy times with a little grandson

Who is growing older, forgetting his Granny Gee

Family sounds ... how I miss 'family sounds' ... my family's sounds

Sounds, sights that will never be heard again

Only in my memory of memories

Up on Fairchild's Mountain

　


Photos/poem owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Fairchild's Mountain was real at one time ... it's still there ... but, it isn't Fairchild's Mountain, anymore. I could walk there, see things no one else could see ... I wonder if the new owners sense any of those things?

Feel an unexpected happiness ... feel unexpected grief ... cry when not knowing why they cried ... smile, not knowing they are sensing happy times?  'Know' this special place was the ... last of many special things ... for this grieving mother ... grandmother?