Rescue Dog Who Went to Heaven on Earth ... Guardian Angels and All

 
Sharing My Story Here From MyLot.com/grannygee

Dukester Garroway Bates ... one of The Pups ... and Skip Bates ....





We literally 'plucked' a dog from Hell on earth ... we are his Guardian Angels for Life. By Gloria Faye Brown Bates.






The Dog From Hell is Now ... The Dog In Heaven ... Guardian Angels For Life




Duke is one happy Pup now.  He has the cleanest, neatest kennel in town.  Every day I go inside to visit him ... Skip visits him.  We sit on top of the dog house to talk to him.

Yesterday ... we rearranged all inside his kennel.  Across the back wall/fence ... Duke has 3 beds ... yes, places to choose for all types of temperatures to sleep, lay on.

To the left when you walk in ... he has his new doghouse ... it is 'wrapped' in a weatherproof, windproof, quilted covering .... inside the dog house is full of cedar shavings.  He has a flap that he goes through.

To the right is his big kennel cab (the door is taken off) ... inside it are soft blankets for him to lay on ... it is wrapped like a cocoon on the outside with a soft down comforter, and another weatherproof, windproof, quilted covering.  The door has a canvas flap where he can lay, stick his head out to see [em]happy[/em]  He loves to do that.

In the middle of both doghouse, kennel cab ... there is a soft, cozy bed in the middle (the long part of the white, soft down comforter and the weatherproof, silky-like material).  Duke pure loves laying here.  He can lay there when he wants to be out in the open.  He can look all around him while he is on this middle bed.

Each day I go out numerous times to make sure Duke is doing well ... I refresh his floor, bed ... check his house, kennel cab to make sure all is neat.  I kept his floor clean ... it is covered in cedar shavings.  Skip and I love to go visit him each day.  I make sure his dry food in his big bowl is full ... and water buckets have fresh water.

Duke used to live in H___  ... Duke lives in Heaven now.  We are his guardian angels here on earth.




Note by this Author:

Photo, true story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

We rescued Duke on January 17, 2017 from H___.  For 2 months prior to finally getting him in our care ... Duke suffered living on the end of a heavy chain ... he froze to the ground twice on that chain that trapped him, wrapped around trees and stumps ... he couldn't get back to his house.

On our watch, Duke is living good.  We love this sweet, innocent Pup.  We are his guardian angels.

Memories Are My Stories Today

Memories From Yesterday Are My Stories Today ...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Grandma Alma and George ... I truly loved these two souls with my very being ... Grandma and George ... 1978.

This is what grief, pain, sadness looks like.  When my son, Tommy, died ... I died for several years never knowing I could smile, live again.

 I was three years old in this photo ... this is the age I began to hate my name when a man called it ... 'Faye-eeeeee'.

This is my mother when she was a little girl ... she looks sad in this photo.  I wish I could go back and know why.  Maybe she had learned to hate her name too.

 This is my mother as a young girl ... she looks happy in this photo.  I smile back at her happy smile.

 This is my mother as a young woman with my favorite brother ... Rick-Rick as a little boy.  Rest in peace, Mom and Rick-Rick.  My Heart breaks thinking of you both.

My beautiful mother with her long, curly hair ... when I was little I thought she was a princess and I wanted to be just like her.

My beautiful mother as a young woman full of pride, strength ... as she grew older ... she became very sad.

I remember my mother when she was full of life ... just plain wonderful to be around!  I wish my mother could have known happiness her whole life.

My beautiful mother ... everyone always called her 'Elizabeth Taylor' and said she was the most beautiful woman around.

I can remember wanting to go outside to play with the other children when standing at the window in the little dark room.

I was 6 years old in this photo ... these were my 'princess days'  ... three years later I was thrown into Hell.

MEMORIES

Damn ... thank God for memories ... because they aren't the present. By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

From a tiny girl to this day ... my memories became stories of yesterday.  As a young girl I never knew I would be writing like I do ... today.



What everyone knew though was ... I wrote the longest letters anyone ever heard of.  I wrote 24-26 page letters to my mother, cousins when I lived away from them.



I would draw pictures to send, also.  My envelopes were the prettiest ... I would draw pictures on them ... color them with markers, pens.



That's 'where I wrote' ... in my letters.  Writing letters, drawing were some of my 'talents' as a younger person.  No one ever said you will grow up to be a writer ... enjoy writing.  They always thought I'd grow up to be a fashion designer ... as a child I had ideas for beautiful clothes.  I would make my own paper dolls ... draw, design their clothes.



I discovered something I thought amazing when I got into my twenties ... a Frederick's of Hollywood's catalog!  Why was it amazing?  Because I was already drawing clothes like some of the models wore!



I'll never forget that feeling as I looked through my first Frederick's of Hollywood catalog.  Sure, the clothes were, are sexy ... that wasn't on my mind ... the designs were what I 'knew' from my own drawings as I grew up!



I heard his voice as he guided my hand underneath the covers.  I was too young to understand why I was standing beside his bed.  I just knew someone with authority had called my name ... "Faye-eee"



He had called it softly as I walked through the hallway by his door.  How was I to know what in this world he wanted?  That's one of my earliest memories ... I was probably 3-4 years old.  That wasn't a good memory.



Running in the sunlight, squealing ... laughing ... I stood in the darkened pantry watching the other children play.  I wasn't old enough to question why? I was isolated in this tiny room which in reality was a pantry with shelves of cans of food.



I remember the feeling of 'I want to play!'  I'll never forget the memory of the light coming through the window ... all was mostly dark around me.  Sometimes, through the years I see photos that give me a flashback to that moment as a tiny girl.  Photos that are taken from inside a dark room, camera aimed toward a window ... capturing the window full of daylight.  It doesn't bother me today ... it used to.



The man came into the room ... gently laid my little body down on the floor.  He put a cookie in my hand ... everything goes black.  I can't remember anymore.  This man was my uncle ... he was babysitting the children.  I was too little to have the vocabulary to tell anyone what happened ... to this day ... I'm still 'too little' to see past the darkness.  So, this isn't a whole memory from ... yesterday.



I was panicky ... why were those people laughing, hollering 'Praise the Lord' so loudly?  I was in a line of people with the wonderful black lady who cared for my little brother and I.  We loved her with our Hearts.  She was one of my best memories.  She came every day to our home when I was small.  She cleaned our home, cooked, and did our clothes ... and best of all ... she sat, told us wonderful stories!



I've never forgotten Josephine and her daughter, Maxine all this time.  I never got to see them all through the years ... I've wished to.  They gave me some good memories as a little girl when sadly ... there weren't a lot of.  I remember running to her and hugging her around her legs.  I was a little girl so happy to see someone I loved.



I never grew up knowing color ... my memory of my first real friend was another little girl ... I didn't know we weren't the same color.  I knew I loved her ... her little smiling face, sparkling eyes full of joy glad to see me as I was to see her.  Looking back I can see her grandmother standing over a big, black cast iron pot next door in the yard.  She had this long stick ... stirring white sheets.  I can see her smiling at me.  I smile at this moment to her memory in my past.



Praise the Lord!  The man hollered, shaking his head side to side.  I could see sweat on his skin.  Looking back I can see the man was a black man ... he was praising God in his own way.  As the little girl in this memory of mine ... the line moved slowly toward something not very far ahead of us.  I kept trying to stretch taller to see ... I never could.  My little brother was with us ... he was smaller than I.  He just followed along.



I was the one with the curiosity that sometimes led me down paths in life ... I hurried back from as quickly as possibly when I learned I wasn't tough enough, big enough ... mean enough, bad enough to keep traveling.



Some of these paths I took in my life I won't ever talk about to anyone.  There are memories one can speak of ... tell to others to tell a story ... there are some that can only cause grief when it's unnecessary to hurt people.  I would never hurt anyone even if I was the one done wrong.  Why?



I care ... that's the only answer I can give.  Only several people ever knew what I went through ... they always have been protective of me through my life.  I'm a very private person ... because of things in my life I can never share with others.  Some people talk about everything ... I don't talk about everything.



I go on to ... forget.  There are things in life that are best to let go ... forget ...  if you can get up from the ground when they happen ... it's best to just walk on ... dusting off your ass ... never look back ... pretend it never happened.  Just like some are doing with our very real history today ... just forget it ... it never happened.  We all knew it did ... but, we don't want to think about it.  So, if we don't think about it ... it isn't there staring us in the eye. Remember the saying, 'out of sight ... out of mind'.



Josephine had tears on her face.  Shiny tears rolled down her dark skin shining in the overhead light.  She smiled ... sadly.  She was muttering words softly ... I couldn't understand.  All that noise!  Everyone was laughing, talking, hollering ... I turned my head this way ... that way to look up at everyone.  They were crying at the same time!  I was too little to understand ... and I began to be afraid.



I held Josephine's hand tightly ... my little brother held her other hand.  We were the only little white people there.  Did anyone pay us any mind?  If they did, I don't remember.  I remember people were gentle, kind to us.  I don't think they saw us as different.  I don't remember seeing them as ... different.  Only different words when describing.



There it was!  A long box ... a black man lay on soft white, puffy material.  He was asleep.  I remember looking at the man ... he was smiling slightly.  He had on a suit, white shirt.  The noise around me was grief, happiness that this man had finally 'went home to be with the Lord'.  This was my first encounter with ... grief.  I was too little to understand ... I was at a funeral.  Josephine had taken my little brother and I to her church to a funeral.



Another early memory was when Josephine told us something that stayed in my mind as a child.  The world was coming to the end ... soon.  I would feel panic until enough things happened to make me forget.



I remember being dressed in the most beautiful dresses my Grandmother Lola would bring when she visited me.  She paid a lot of money for them.  I was a pretty little princess at one time ... dressed in the prettiest clothes, lacey socks, black patented shoes.  My hair was below my waist ... curly like my beautiful mother's hair was.



I was a little princess until age nine ... my castle turned into a roach-infested, rat-infested, dirty dungeon.  Truthfully ... not a dungeon ... but, a house full of such unhappiness but, full of love for me.  My Grandma Alma and the only grandfather I ever knew ... George (he was my step-grandfather ... I never knew the difference).  I pure loved Grandma Alma, George.



Grandma Alma was paralyzed ... George was blind.  This was Hell where they lived.  This was where everyone unwanted ended up at.  Grandma Alma, George did their best to care for everyone ... looking back ... oh my God ... they were the ones who needed to be cared for.  Their every day was pure Hell ... I don't know how they did it.



Many memories came from Hell ... I learned to hate hearing a man saying, whispering my middle name (everyone called me that) ... 'Faye-eeeeeeee'.  I would feel dread knowing what they were trying to do ... try to get away from them.



I hated my name 'Faye' ... to this day ... I pure hate being called 'Faye'.  It opens the door to awful memories ... some I can't bear to think about.



Don't ... ever ... call ... me ... Faye.  I might not ever answer, speak to you.  I am a very nice person, one of the nicest people ... depending on the mood I'm in ... I just might tell you to 'go to Hell' ... that's where I learned when I was called 'Faye-eeee' ... bad things happened.



Memories are my stories today ... they are what I write about.  I write about grief.  I write about pain, sadness.  Why do I write about such things?  Because I have known them best in my life ... one should only write about things they know.  This is what I have known.  I can write about happy, funny, good things too.



So when I write ... you read ... don't worry about me regressing to the past.  Don't think I live in the past ... always moaning, groaning, whining and crying 'woe is me'.  Don't think I'm wallowing in my pain like a pig wallowing in mud.  Don't think I'm close to a breakdown because I can't cope with my grief.  I have to remind my readers to NOT do this.  Truthfully ... I am alright.  I've coped with, put these things to rest ... I have peace inside today.  It's just that ...



My memories from yesterday are my stories today.




Note by this Author:



If I couldn't write about my Life ... all I've personally experienced ... I wouldn't have a thing to write about.



I have to remind my followers from time to time to just read my stories no matter how painful, sad ... just understand 'I'm in the moment' ... when I write about different things.



It's like acting ... how can I make you feel at least some of what I have experienced without you actually experiencing it yourself?



You can through my words and then ... go on with your own life.  Who knows ... maybe my words can help good things to happen in your life ... you can avoid things that happened to me.



Maybe my words could, can make a positive difference in your life ... I pray so.



Photos/true story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

In My Father's House

In My Father's House

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee






Photo of Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
with her father ...

This is one of the several photos of the father I never knew.  I went to see him when I was in my late twenties.  I never knew the smiles he gave me that day while living with him.



As in my nature ... I smile back at everyone who smiles at me, shows me kindness.  I smiled a lot at him that day trying to see what it felt like to have a loving father.  He seemed proud of his oldest daughter that day.



 Don't you agree sometimes ... it's best not to look at old photographs?  They bring about sadness, pain and wondering what things could have been like 'if'...



Sadly, my father died ... we never had an opportunity to see what it felt like to be father and daughter.  I wish ...










You talk to your mother all the time.  You trust, ask, tell her your private thoughts, ideas you wouldn't trust even your best friend with.  Why?  You trust her ... she's your mother.  You can be 'you' with her ... she knows exactly who her child is.  You know who she is ... mama.




Your mother will talk to you just as she talked to you as a child.  She will worry for you and hope you'll make wise decisions.  She's always there for you no matter what.  Why?  Because you are her child ... mothers are like that.  You are her baby no matter how old.




I don't know about fathers but, mine would ignore me when I lived with him.  He was afraid to speak to me ... because of making my step-mother angry at him.  When he spoke 'to me' ... it was different ... he made it sound gruff, angry.




When I spoke to him I spoke with respect ... just as if he was a stranger.  I may have been his oldest child ... but, my stepmother made it impossible for him to love me.  His anger was to hide any paternal feelings toward me.




No one would know we were father-daughter excepting ... I favored him ... a lot.  Listening to us ... one would think I was a polite, well-mannered girl speaking to an older man.  They would think the man didn't like me no matter how nicely I spoke to him.  His smile at me never quite reached his eyes.




My sisters spoke to him in a very familiar way.  They spoke to him like the daddy he was to them.  They had grown up with him ... I didn't have opportunity to.  He would tease, laugh, cut-up with them.  I loved to hear them ... I longed to know what it felt like for a father to love me.  You know ... a daddy.




Whenever I met my father in the doorway ... I felt fear.  I dreaded what would come next.  He would give me an angry glare ... and I hoped he would walk on through the doorway before me ... he would stand ... wait for me to go through.  He would nod his head for me to.  It was always awkward ... and it made me feel nervous all the time.  He would jump out of the way for me to go by.  Oh, the pain I felt in my young Heart.




I always jumped to do any chore with a smile ... when I did it to my best ability ... I would go the extra mile.  I would do just a little more than asked to do while thinking 'that will make them love me more, they'll be glad I'm here'.  No matter what I did ... my dad would sit back ... make sarcastic comments to me.  He would say I did things so someone would notice me.  He was right ... I did them to be loved.  It didn't work ... nothing worked.




I went to school ... came home ... went to the bedroom and sat on the bed ... studied.  I would stare at the words in my book ... my stomach would be tied in knots at what comments to come my way that evening.




I couldn't eat ... no one seemed to notice.  I didn't until I ran away one day ... and saw how little I was ... and even pretty!  I never saw myself while living at my father's house.  I remember how boys would whistle ... never knowing it was me ... I always looked around to see who they whistled at.  No one would be there ... I still didn't realize.  The day I ran away ... my eyes begin to open ... I began to see me.  I was just a being at my father's house.




The day my daddy slapped me in the face was the day I planned to run away.  That was the first, last time he slapped me.  That slap did something to me ... it devastated me ... it destroyed any love I had for my father.  It also, destroyed any feelings I had toward my step-mother, sisters.




I was slapped because one of my sisters lied on me.  My youngest sister was always getting into mischief ... I would get myself in trouble ... say I did something to keep her from being grounded.  Why?  I was the big sister, I truly loved her.  Sadly, she and my other sister never formed a bond with me.  I would get into trouble for them because I hoped they would see my love for them ... hoped they'd love me in return.  It never happened.




The lie my youngest sister told on me brought about the whole, ugly incident.  My step-mother screamed at me in the bathroom where I was ... my father stepped in to see what was wrong.  She told him I was the one who had used his razor, left it in his bathroom unwashed.




She triggered something inside him that made him very angry ... he took his strong hand, slapped me so hard I almost fainted.  It may have been anger from the time I was born until that day when I was fourteen ... I felt all his rage.  Did he try to slap me back into the past ... before I was born?  It truly felt that way ... I can still feel the shock to this day ... the pain, grief of knowing my father hated me.  He only told me he loved me ... one time.  I'll write about that one day.




My step-mother took advantage of his anger to begin slapping me in my face until my nose bled blood all over everything in the bathroom.  It seemed it went on forever.  All over a lie ... all over something I didn't know about until I was accused of it.




That was the day I began to plot how to run away from them.  That was the day I began to hate my father, his wife, his other two daughters.  To this day ... I don't hate them.  I forgave many years ago.  I look back ... I wonder if anyone ever felt bad for mistreating a young girl so badly.




I lived in a beautiful home ... spotless.  I dressed in the nicest clothes all ironed, starched.  Everyone smiled ... was happy ... family sounds all around.  Laughter, squeals from the children.  Fun, teasing talk to them from the parents.  I lived in the best family ... only I wasn't a part of them excepting being my father's child.









Just because you talk to someone doesn't mean that is the same person I talk to ... your father could be my brother. By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.









Note from this Author:





These are some of the thoughts I had today ... when thinking about how when we talk to the same person ... the person you talk to isn't the one I talk to.




When I spoke to my father ... it was to a stranger.  When my sisters spoke to my father ... it was to their daddy who loved them.




When you speak to someone ... always know you speak to them as you know them ... another person comes up will speak to them as they know them ... you will never speak to the same person the other is talking to.  Think about it.




Life can be very sad ... we see ... feel it in our minds, Hearts when we are older.  It's sad we all can't go back ... start over again ... do away with all the pain, hurt, grief left behind in the past.  I'm sure my father would have done differently.  He didn't want to anger his second wife ... risk losing his other children.  I understand ... have understood for many years.  It still doesn't take the sadness away of what could have been.



Photo/true story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

I Wish I Had a Second Chance

Photo owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates

'I wish I could see now what I couldn't see then'. Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee









I don't mind when the day comes for me to die.  I'm not afraid ... I look forward.  Every mistake I make in this life will be made up for at a later time ... as long as I truly try to do better while living in this life.


I am married to my soulmate, best friend ... the most perfect man for me.  We both looked forward to dying ... because one day all the years we never had together when younger ... we will have them at a later time ... after we die.  We always have wished we'd met at an earlier time in life.


This is how I wish Life ... Death ... really worked.  Wouldn't it be wonderful to know during your life today ... that you'd have a second chance to know pure happiness ... how to avoid mistakes, things in our second life.


I'm not really looking forward to dying because when I die I know I won't have a second chance to live again ... to make all wrong in this life ... right in a second life.  I won't get to do things over again ... change all the things to good in my life.  Skip and I have talked numerous times of how we wish we could do Life over again ... how we would make things be instead of like they have been.


What is that saying about 'hind sight is twenty-twenty'?  I wish I could see forward as good as ... looking back.


I realize our mistakes from yesterday make us who we are today.  It's a shame not to be able to live a life of doing everything right to know, see how it feels when all is good.  I would like a second chance.









Note by this Author:


I wish so much we all had that second life to look forward to ... I wish we could know how it feels to go through life knowing where we made wrong decisions, mistakes in our lives ... know how wonderful it felt to go on ... knowing how good it feels to not have made them.  I wish ...


Photo/story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

Duke to Being Perfect ... Almost Killing Myself to a Roller Coaster Ride!

Duke to Being Perfect ... Almost Killing Myself to a Roller Coaster Ride!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka GrannyGee







Skip always said I had the ability to entertain myself ... this is proof! By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/Granny Gee

I got up with Duke on my mind ... I knew he needed to get his pain meds this morning.

I got up .... made all The Pups' breakfast early ... went out to Duke's kennel ... he was so warm inside the kennel cab where I'd placed blankets and covered it with a quilted, weatherproof cover (in fact, the cover is so big ... that his dog house is now covered in double thickness of the quilted, weatherproof covering.

I had to put his 4 pain meds (tramadol 50 mg each) .... into 4 pieces of cut-up weiner. I hand-fed them to him to be sure he got each. I don't want this beautiful, special baby to suffer at all.

Duke didn't want to come out of his warm house. Inside his kennel ... I couldn't feel any air moving .... I've put 3-thick canvas panels all the way around the whole kennel, and the top is covered with the heavy-duty tarp.

I repeat things sometimes in case someone wonders if this or that. When I'm keeping up with something when reading ... I'm always wondering and it's nice to have my questions answered. :) <3

I looked into Duke's sweet face ... he knows something has happened to him ... his little precious face melts my Heart. I patted his sweet head. I wanted to rub, gently massage his back, hold him close ... right now I can't until he feels he wants to walk around.

I cleaned his kennel where he'd been ... I have to say the cedar shavings are wonderful for not letting scents linger .... and when using the shovel, rake. His floor stays spotless.

Kissy and Camie were tickled to get their breakfast early :) They ate their eggs ... stood at their other bowls of dry grain-free food .... crunching up a storm. I love to listen to them ... I can tell they are enjoying the heck out of their food. :)

Guess who is snoozing now? Yes, Kissy and Camie. I know Duke will be sleeping, resting all morning. I may lay back down, nap. I can't rest until my babies are taken care of.

I was amazed to find out Duke doesn't have a microchip. I will have to get him one in the future. I was fully expecting someone owned him because he is the most loving dog (Pit Bull) ... someone has truly loved, cared for him in his life before having to live on a heavy chain. Someone loves, cares for him now. He deserves only love, caring .... he's been through his Hell on earth.

His nails look so nice ... they were clipped yesterday. When he was brought out of the mobile unit yesterday ... everyone watched him ... he is so beautiful. No one backed away from him as he walked by. I was so happy to see that.

I don't know about other animals (so far ... Kissy and Camie and Duke have serious discussions) ... I do know with every person he's encountered ... he's only loving, not afraid of them.

Thank God he knows love from people. That heavy-ass chain didn't make him bitter at all ... 'if it had been me on that chain' ... I think I'd bitten a few asses! Yes ... I said that :) Especially the one who put that heavy-ass chain on my neck. Did I sound ugly? I know it did but, sometimes ... I am. Especially when it comes to people, animals being mistreated.

I have wished to be perfect all my years on this earth .. I tried to be 3 years of my life .... an 'be damned' it still wasn't enough to make 'everyone' like me. :) So now ... I just try to be the best I can ... and even I know it isn't enough but ... I just keep trying. I'm not just going to give up, sit on my ass whine, cry woe is me. :) <3 Thankfully I learned that there are those that will never like you ... no matter what. Learning that has saved me a lot of grief through time. If anyone else goes through that like I have ... just be the best you can and go on. There are people like me who will love 'you' because that's why you are 'you'. I love 'birds of a different feather' ... unusual people ... good or bad. I look past that.

Okay ... I feel a 'writing mode' come on ... I'm going to stop now. There's no telling what I will begin to write. It could be something like ....

It was dark, all was shiny with wetness ... I always hated the dark and the rain. I walked trying to find my way out of the maze of alleys, streets.

The bastard offered me a ride ... dumped me out in a bad section of the city I lived in. I'd never been here in my life .... I never wanted to come back.

A dark figure appeared about 30 feet ahead of me. I felt fear loom up inside me like a cobra about to strike. I felt I might just die here on the shiny, wet pavement ... my blood running, mingling with the rain.

I was holding my breath as I held my head down ... I hoped the figure wouldn't see me! When it met up with me .... it stopped. Why did my feet stop walking! I stood mesmerized by the dark figure just as a cobra charms its prey. I raised my head waiting for death to strike ... I tried to take a deep breath for the blow.

The figure did nothing ... I waited forever ... nothing happened. Why is death taking so long! My heart pounded making my head hurt from the vibration ... I lost my breath again ... I feel faint from the lack of air ... I wanted to faint!

I felt fists of fear striking the walls of my stomach ... I was almost killing myself with fear ... the figure didn't have to do a thing! I heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a laugh! A laugh!?

I was in shock ... kill me you bastard, kill me ... don't make me stand here any longer. I'd rather die than to stand here in suspense ... frozen with dread! Kill my ass! I heard my name being whispered! My name was being whispered ... it carried to me on the air ... Glo...ri...a ... Gloria.

I weakened almost falling to the pavement ... it knew my name! It was Death coming to get my ass, take me to Hell ... laughing in my face, calling my name.

I felt strength surge through my body ... shock, fear, weakness fell away like ice shattering to reveal the chain that held me still to be slaughtered. The chain shattered like glass ... making my body feel light, strong ... I would fight to the death. I've been a fighter all my life!

Never mind I didn't have a weapon. I would use my body ... and if I died I wouldn't feel any pain ... because I would fight to the end ... never feeling when death struck. I held my fists tightly ... just let the figure make a move toward me!

Strength flowed through my body making me feel power ... hell, I wanted to fight now. My body began to sway, move in a rhythm of its own ... I wanted something to happen now. Come on Death, let's rock 'n roll ... you've come for me .... I'm not ready to go.

I heard a laugh come from the figure ... it sounded familiar coming from something unfamiliar. What the hell? I slowed down trying to listen ... blood was pounding inside my head making it hard to hear. I could hear but, couldn't hear.

I looked closer trying to see why the dark figure seemed familiar but, not familar. I heard for the 3rd time a laugh, then my name floating on the air! I was going to grab the figure ... shake it until I found out what I wanted to know. I was the hunted ... now I had become the hunter .... no fear, dread of dying.

I grabbed the dark figure screaming at it "who are you, who are you!?" The figure dissolved in my hands to the ground! I stood stunned as I listened to hysterical laughing! Laughing!? I kicked the figure ... it laughed harder! I kicked it again! The figure pure howled its laughter like a wolf! Ha! Ha! Ha!

I stopped kicking the figure ... suppose it was someone I knew? I couldn't bear to hurt another soul. I heard my name on the air again .... Gloria .... it's just me! It's just me, Gloria!

I looked down closer at the figure .... I took my clenched fist closer to its head ... my fingers uncurled to grab the hood on the figure's head ... I jerked it back.

In the night light I saw a laughing face looking up at me! It was .... it was ...

Me! Myself! I! looking back at me! I had just scared myself, me, and I! to death!

Gracious, I still feel the effects as I come out of my writing mode! :) <3

Have you ever had a song in your head? You had to sing it to get it out? No matter how good, how bad? Well, you just saw what happens to me when I'm struck by the writing bug ... no matter how good ... how bad!

I just took you for a ride without meaning to ... but, I had to see how far I would go with my story... and if I needed to keep writing on.

I took myself for a roller-coaster ride too .... I'm still feeling the adrenaline surging through me! :)

Wow! I am taking deep breaths now! Skip tells me all the time ... that I know how to entertain myself! Ha! Ha! Ha! That I do! Tommy was just like me in that respect! I miss him so much ... we had such fun! <3

Pieces Of Me Together Again

'Pieces of Me' .... photo owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

Humpty-Dumpty and I have something in common ... we had to put our pieces together again. By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

I took a photo of myself. I see how far I've come in weight loss. I am looking forward to taking off maybe 40 more pounds.

Looking back at my photos after Tommy, my only child, died ... my photos are horrible. I don't even recognize the person I see. I was just a mess ... I had given up ... I knew it would never matter again if I looked pretty ... looked even decent enough to go outside the house. I didn't care anymore ... I did not care ... my son had died ... so did I.

Three ... four ... five years went by ... slowly without being fully aware of it ... I began to come back to life. I wanted to live ... I had always loved life! I realized I wanted to live in the light of the sunshine again! I wanted to smile, be happy! How could I ... I asked myself. Tommy's dead ... my son is dead ... how can I smile, feel happiness ever again? Just how could I?

Time went by ... it didn't happen overnight that's for sure ... I began to want to live, look nice once again. Oh my God ... my mirror told me it was just pure ... impossible! There wasn't any way at all I could see ... of coming back from the darkness I'd entered. I didn't know if the light could reach that far.

I kept trying to find me in my mirror ... only once in a great while would I see 'ME'. I would try to hold on to me when I saw me ... I would fade away. All would be left in the mirror was an old, pitiful ... fat woman who couldn't look me in the eye. She would turn her head.

Time went by ... I can't really remember now how much time ... I began to see 'ME' more often. I would smile ... 'ME' would smile back! I saw happiness to meet up with my old self ... 'ME' would disappear over and over. I realized I wanted 'ME' back. I wanted to live ... how could I? ... my baby was gone. How could I come back to life when the only beautiful part of me was ... gone?

Time went by ... more time went by ... how much I can't tell you now. I began to accept my son wasn't coming back to me ... I wasn't going to hear his voice again ... feel his hugs for his mother ... laugh, tease his 'ole mom'. I wasn't going to worry over him anymore ... cry when he was sad ... laugh, feel happy when good things happened to him. I wasn't ... I wasn't ... I wasn't. I wanted to scream to the universe to please let him come back ... don't let this be so.

Strangely ... no one ever heard the cries, screaming to God to please not let Tommy be dead ... no one ever saw the weight of grief on my shoulders. Everything was so ... quiet.

I was a hellacious storm going on in front of anyone's eyes ... the quietest storm ever ... no one ever saw ... heard a thing. I was the worst storm to ever hit me ... how I weathered it ... I don't know.

Just think of a redwood tree ... think of me scarred, battered to hell ... still standing in the beautiful sunlight I so craved. I never talked to anyone about my grief ... I only wrote my pain telling the whole world I hurt ... how badly I hurt. I never told anyone ... I wrote it. I was ashamed of my pain. I didn't want those around me to know ... you know how prideful people can be.

I no longer have such pride about a lot of things now. I've met reality head-on ... battled it ... I'm still standing. I'm alright now ... I have both feet planted on the ground. Knock me down ... I'll just get right back up, dust my pants off ... I want to live now. I have put my pieces back together once again ... just like Humpty Dumpty.

Note by this Author:

Grief is ugly ... it's the most real part of life. If you've lost a child ... a part of 'you' ... you know exactly what I write about. If you haven't lost a child ... thank God you don't have to know any of these feelings ... know such God-awful darkness in your life. It's hard to come back from. How I've made it ... I don't know. To look at me now ... you see the ravages of Hell on me ... but, I'm still standing. I'm doing the very best with the pieces I have left of 'ME' ... I found them in my mirror again. I was so glad to see 'Me' after so long. I thought I was gone too.

Photo/true story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.