ROOM OF EMPTY BOTTLES...

ROOM OF EMPTY BOTTLES

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

I was limping, I stopped, pulled my loafer off to look at the heel of my foot. It was bleeding and had little holes in my heel. Those nails were cutting into my heels, it hurt so bad. The inside of both of my shoes were bloody.

For so long... I had to wear these shoes... at one time they were pretty, and didn't bite into my feet to make them bleed each day. No one ever knew... I was too ashamed... too proud to let anyone know how I suffered. I would try to wipe the blood out of them each evening... I hated the smell of blood. That's what the inside of my shoes smelled like... blood.

I wished for a new pair of shoes, but, I thought no farther than that. The pain was too great. I just wanted to get home, I was tired from being in school all day... I had fought my daily 'battles' there, as I did each day. Not physically, but.. mentally.

My classmates, other kids made my life harder, never knowing how they contributed to my pain... pain I hid from them. No one knew how I suffered both.... mentally, physically. I was someone they could pick on and take attention off their 'imperfections'. Yes, I made it easy for them to 'point with their finger to direct attention away from themselves'. I had to walk 2 blocks to get home... I wanted to take those shoes off my feet.

I worried at how I'd find my beautiful mother. Would she be herself today, or would she be a 'monster' today. Everyday I always had to wonder what I would find when I got to the house my mom had gotten for her and I ... this was now... home.

I had my own bedroom and sometimes at nights I would wake from nightmares. One of the nightmares would be of my mama being under my bed having convulsions. I couldn't bear for anything to be wrong with my mama. To think about how much I loved her... brought tears to my eyes.

It was an awful nightmare that haunted me for years.... in my dream I would hear something under my bed, I would slip out of bed and look underneath... my mom would be lying on her back having a convulsion.

I would be sick at heart and scared when I woke up. I worried so much about my mom. Men tried to take advantage of her when she 'wasn't herself'. They would come here to this new 'home'. I hated them.

I loved it when my mama was 'my mama'... I loved my mama. She would smile, her eyes would sparkle with mischieviousness, and happiness, she would talk and laugh with me. She was so fun, and so beautiful! I was proud of my mama when she was like this. I wasn't proud when she was like.....

I came inside the house, I was looking around sensing like I did every day to know if 'mama was my mama'...or... if today she would be the 'monster'.

I heard her in the kitchen, I followed the sound. She had her back to me and I couldn't tell just yet. "Hello mama", I said. She turned around and smiled at me. I took a deep breath and thought inside 'thank-God'... that's my mama! I knew we'd have a good evening talking and laughing.

I walked by the little room we called a pantry. There was nothing in there, excepting.... even today I see this little room as I stand in the doorway.... bare wooden floor, sunshine coming in from the one window in there... over in the far corner a stack of clear medicine bottles piled up high in the corner.... sloping down toward me on the floor... dusty floor.

The sun was shining on the bottles, in each bottle I could see a little liquid... it was very pretty in the sunlight. It was green liquid. This room of empty bottles always made me sick to my heart. These bottles with the green liquid turned my mama into the monster she became for about three days at a time. She made my life pure hell and I was frightened of her.

The pile of empty bottles kept growing ... as it grew, I knew firsthand 'why'. My mother drank it... it changed her from beautiful to a monster. In my mind, at the age of thirteen, the only name I could think of to describe my mama when she changed ...was 'monster'. She was mean and very cruel to me. When she was my mama... she would never be mean to me.

My heels hurt so bad. I had to wear hand-me-down shoes, the nails in the heels were coming through... my feet bled and hurt. I never thought past that... I thought probably that was the way life was supposed to be. I never complained. I went into my bedroom to take my shoes off.. I just wanted to feel the cool hardwood floors on the bottom of my feet.

I ran into the kitchen to talk to my mama. Edna, my only friend, had come to see us. She lived next door to us. She was always so nice, and I thought alot of her. My mother liked her, too.

We all three were standing around the dining table, we were drinking glasses of chocolate milk. I still see the image in my mind, how funny and happy that time was. Someone said something so funny, that unexpectedly I became so tickled that I began laughing, chocolate milk spraying from my mouth.

I remember looking at my mother's eyes to see if she got mad. Her eyes were so full of surprise, and she began laughing harder. That was one of the happiest moments in my life with my mama. She never got mad at me for the chocolate milk... we all cleaned it up.

Several days went by, all went well. I was growing more tense by the day... 'it was time'. It was time, my mama was going to be a monster soon. It never failed. I wished so much my mama would stay the same way. I never told anyone at school what I lived with at home. Even as a child I was very private about 'what really went on in my life'. I protected everyone by not saying anything... it also, kept attention off me.

I was moved from here to there, made fun of depending on 'who' I lived with... I dressed good here, dressed bad there. I don't think anyone ever asked me why I'd come to school for a while, be gone for months or maybe a year or so, come back. It was a pattern.

The teachers even began to make comments saying that my mama 'not only looked just like Elizabeth Taylor, she got married as many times as Elizabeth Taylor', and moved as many times. They never realized 'it was only me' that was moved many times... they wouldn't have cared anyway.. they all had good lives and couldn't 'see' past that.

I would feel embarassed, but, I accepted that as part of my life. I didn't complain, I cried only when my feelings were hurt or I was physically hurt. I don't remember crying over something I couldn't have... somehow, I knew I wasn't good enough to have things. To have things one had to be like the girls who gave me that present with deodorant, soap and lotion. They lived in cosy, nice homes with real parents, cars, and they got to be in the Brownies, and in different things at school. At that time, I knew I wasn't 'good enough', also... there wasn't money for anything I needed. I never asked, I didn't think to.

Oh no! I heard something falling to the floor in the kitchen when I came in the front door. I felt that familiar dread, sick feeling in my stomach, my hands began trembling. I walked slowly to put my things in the bedroom. I knew I had to see my mama sooner or later. I hoped she wouldn't scream at me. I took my hated shoes off my feet.

I tiptoed quietly to see where my mom was, I heard her. She was in the kitchen. She'd made a mess on the table. The 'monster' was here now. I was afraid. I was sick to my soul, life was going to be hell for several days.

My mama began screaming at me to do this, to do that. I couldn't bear hearing her voice full of anger at me. What did I do? The whole evening went like that... she was cussing, ranting and raving at me. I asked her once could I go outside and play in the street with the kids. "Hell no!" she screamed at me. "You have too many things to do in here!"

I gradually sneaked off to my bedroom to get away from her. I couldn't feel good being in there with her, nor here in the privacy of my bedroom. She could come in here at any minute to scream at me. My mama did just that! Her face would be contorted into a face that I didn't know, a horrible monster face with demon eyes looking out at me. It seemed she took pleasure in making me cry, hurting me so, that I would. She hated me when she was a monster. 'Why'... I didn't know.

Life was hell, and it grew to the point that I couldn't take anymore of it.... I didn't have anywhere to feel safe at, I was hated at home, at school... no one would look at me, if they did they 'looked down' at me. I'm sure they thought I was white trash. A girl had already called me a whore... I didn't know what that meant. I was labeled with names I hadn't deserved ..or earned as a child, much less knew the meanings of.

My mama whom I loved with my very heart... could become a monster just at anytime. I didn't know exactly 'why' she'd become a monster but, I did know it had something to do with all those clear bottles in the pantry.... in that big pile that sloped down... in the sunlight those bottles were pretty... each held a small amount of green liquid in them... the 'whole' picture of those bottles was ... pretty. Colors attracted my attention... the pretty green always drew my eyes toward it.

Somehow, I 'knew' that green liquid in those bottles contributed to the hell I lived in for that period of time. Yes, each and every one of those empty bottles affected my young life in some way... many ways. Not only that... my beautiful mother's life. We were both victims.

That room of empty bottles... with the little splash of green color in each one. Empty bottles, green liquid... all sloping from high up in the corner into a pile downward toward the door... toward me, when I stood there. I never thought to taste it... to see if I'd like it. I knew that I liked that pretty color... green. I liked how the clear glass bottles sparkled in the sunshine... diamonds and emeralds... that's what they made me think of, in that room of empty bottles.

Those bottles, that beautiful liquid of emerald green had... strange powers. Those crystal clear glass bottles... with a splash of emerald green mixed with the golden light of the sunshine piled high in that corner... only a dusty floor beneath them, and bare walls around them, one window letting the sun shine through to highlight... those empty bottles, empty excepting for the little splash of emerald green in each bottle. I remember those bottles so well.

Those bottles made such an impression on me the day I walked into the door of that room... I don't remember seeing that 'pile' grow... I just remember the pile that was so high. That pile of bottles ... if one had taken a photo of it, it would have made a pretty piece of art... colors of crystal clear, golden light, emerald-green liquid in a stark, empty room...with a dusty floor.

Know that this author loved her mother with her very heart, know that she would be rich just counting the tears she cried just for her mama in her whole life. Just think how rich I would be if I counted the tears for 'all' the ones I've lost in my world...

I miss my mama with my heart. She was a very good-hearted person... she really would give you the last thing she had if she knew you needed it. She was beautiful, no matter the life she had... addictions are powerful. We all have had one or the other in our lives... habits are hard to change. They become 'one with us' until we no longer recognize ourselves or... others recognize us...... without them. We can't live without them. I always 'saw my mama', I always recognized my mother.

In my life my 'addictions' have been smoking as a young woman, it took almost dying and forgetting there was such a thing as a cigarette... to break my addiction. I never remembered smoking after I entered the world between 'life and death'. I know firsthand how powerful that addiction is. My next addiction was/is ..... eating good foods. Just these words in this paragraph... think about them.............. if you smoke ..you are knowing exactly what I mean.

If you don't... 'feel' the power of those words and 'know'...... that once people are addicted, it's not easy to 'let go'.... of anything. I have compassion, empathy for people who fight addiction, because in 'my own way'.... I know and have this to compare with.

I can look around me, watch tv... I know that I'm not alone in this 'addiction/habit' of ... eating. We eat for comfort, pleasure in tastes and textures of different foods as well as for satisfying our hunger.

I constantly 'fight the battle of obesity'... I'm fighting it now, and actually doing very good in my struggle. As a young woman... to stay 'beautiful, perfect'... I could only eat a couple of spoons of food, or eat several very tiny bites of food, only drink mostly liquids, dance and walk, run... to stay small enough to wear sizes 8-9. Oh... I would look at my beautiful designer clothes and know if I wanted to wear them... I would continue to starve myself. I know what it's like to be 'on both sides'.

I would like to add.... 'everyone loved me, Gloria'... when I starved myself... and stayed so tiny. I was popular, what I thought ...mattered, when I spoke...everyone heard me no matter how softly I spoke. I was 'perfect' as long as I 'had that addiction to starvation'. I had to suffer for years to be so popular, so 'loved', so 'perfect'............ I was the most imperfect being in this whole world. Strange 'how we humans' ........ 'see and think'. Don't you agree?

I suffered to be loved and thought of as 'somebody'. For a number of years now... I am only myself, I don't starve for anyone's attention or their love... I like myself.

I wonder if my mom's addiction began at some point to make her more acceptable in other people's eyes, more beautiful, more 'perfect'? Something made her have a 'starting point'.... all addictions ...do. She was 'perfect' in her beauty, her personality... just being herself. Of course, like people who have entered 'that world'.......... it becomes 'more than that'... they begin to not be able to live without what they 'need'. It's almost 'too late' for them.

My heart breaks for people who go through their 'own hells' while living here on earth.... my feeling is that when you live in 'hell' while here.... you go to heaven when you die. You've earned it by the time you die. My opinion only... I know you have yours.... I respect it, as I know you will mine.

I am sitting here... I see that 'room of empty bottles piled high in that corner'........ with a little splash of emerald green in each..... beautiful, golden sunshine making all 'sparkle'..... magic. My favorite jewelry is gold and diamonds, emeralds... I wear only gold and diamonds... maybe one day a emerald. I would think of those bottles, and their power.

I'm glad I never thought once of...... tasting that beauty... it never lured me excepting to see 'the art, the colors, the way those bottles sloped down to the dusty floor, sunshine making the bottles, liquid... sparkle'. Such beauty in that ..somehow. Strange, isn't it... strange how I think that... looking back.

HE DIED IN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WAY...

HE DIED IN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WAY...

01 January, 2012

Today is the first day of January, 2012. We made it, we all made it into the New Year.

Every year at this time... I pay attention to who 'makes it into the new year' that I know, or know of.

Every year at this time the thought 'I made it'... goes through my mind. I'm so thankful to have made it. I love to live ...though for some time now... I haven't been the happiest.

Last night I was looking at photos of Tommy, my only child. I was thinking 'he didn't make it into New Year 2011... and now, it is year 2012. As I looked at the photos of him so proudly holding Taban, his newborn son... he always knew he'd be there for him. We knew he'd always be here.

Life is so fragile and it doesn't matter how big, how strong, how poor or rich you are...... it's so easy for one of us to become sick or to be sick... and die. One can be so sick and not know it, and like Tommy... collapse into the world of permanent darkness... never to come back to the ones he meant the world to.

I can't tell you in words the grief my heart has held since he died. If you could measure my feelings, the grief and the heartache... that words can't describe....... the pain of it all would make you fall to your knees. You would find it so difficult to get back up with the weight of my pain. I carry this everyday 'inside' where no one can see it. Skip sees and knows, and even now, he says that he is careful to talk about Tommy because he knows I'll get upset. It's okay, I have to speak of Tommy.. he was a real person, and he was my person... my son.

One has to be strong ..to make it this far after the death of a child, your only child. I know.... I almost wasn't.

Tommy died May 29, 2010 when he collapsed on the sand at Myrtle Beach... he and Taban were on the beach running, laughing and playing. Thankfully, there were people nearby to witness seeing him and Taban ... this very tall, blonde-headed guy running and laughing and playing with his small 3 year old son.

Those people who were there made the difference in Taban's life... I'm so thankful for them. What would have happened to Taban, if they weren't there?

We met a man recently whom we liked very much. His name was Phillip. He is a free spirit, an open spirit. I listened with interest as he talked to Skip, then began to talk to me.

He told me something that I'd thought of alot and am so thankful for.... Tommy died in such a way that most people would want their loved ones... themselves to die. The man, Phillip, said with such feeling 'he died in the most beautiful way, we all would want to die in that way'.

I looked at the man when he said that ... and I said 'yes, he did die in the most beautiful way'. Only Skip and I had spoken of that and now, since it all happened, here was the first person to actually come out and... say in words 'he died in the most beautiful way, we all would want to die in that way'.

I liked that man and I liked the way he spoke. His eyes were of the deepest blue and what struck me was the ... sincerity I saw in them. His eyes were 'like our eyes', they held kindness and compassion in them. You know how sometimes in life you will meet that rare person who is alot like yourself... here, was a 'good' man. I appreciated the opportunity of meeting this man even for the short time we talked with him. I do believe he may have been an angel of sorts........ my heart heard him.. and that's unusual. He was sincere.

Recently, another person who is rare, came into my life for a second time. We met her a year ago in 2010, months after Tommy died. We had occasion to be at her home and though 'back then' is like a dream to me... I never forgot the feeling I had about her. What's so strange... she felt it, also.

I can't describe what I felt back then, toward her. I do remember thinking I wish I had more people like that in my life. She seemed so real, and like me.

I sensed in her as she talked.. this person 'knows pain and grief'... she's been there and she doesn't use 'empty' words. I cared about her as she talked and... I felt this... through my grief. Strange, I know... but, she 'stood out to me' in the most quietest, softest and special way. I thought even then... one would like to have friends like her. In colors... she would be the softest pastels one could imagine... special colors so soft but, really stand out because they are so special... but, only a few people would take the time to see them... only the people who could appreciate them. They are rare... indeed.

Of course, we went our own way since then, until the latter part of this summer when 'again'... our lives touched. The words she said to me touched my heart and I 'saw, felt, and heard' her again.... and 'knew inside my heart'... that she and I have a bond woven in compassion, strength, grief, love and just caring. It's a bond of the strongest kind.

I did as I always did when people would begin to get close to me, I begin to push away knowing that I can't share my life, my life hasn't ever been like everyone's normal life, and I could never relate to anyone.... because they can't share what my life has held.

Knowing that... I never tried to make friends, excepting 'public' friends. You know how special they are... they are always wonderful when you meet them in public... at home they might not really.. like you.

These friends are more wonderful because they demostrate how much they just love you... when other people are around. I won't talk bad about these kind of friends... we all need them... or how else would we 'appear' to be such wonderful people if these friends weren't around to 'show' them... in the meantime, show how good a friend they are.

We all have to have them... because we might never get close enough to other people in our lives either because we can't or we don't choose to. At least, when we need a pat on the back or a smile, or a hug....... we can 'just go out' and there they are... our friends! Yes, they do mean alot... they can make you feel liked and loved and important for a little while. Personally, I'm thankful for them.......... :))))) Sometimes.. they make me feel like 'somebody'....... :)))))))

This woman was different. I told her that I'm not the kind of person who can 'just go out with another woman friend to have lunch or coffee', or to go shopping and all the things women do. I can't do it... it's not 'me'.

I was so amazed to find out that she... understood perfectly. She is alot like ...me. She accepted me as I am.... and I accept her as she is. We... just are. We don't have to feel the pressure 'friends' put on each other... we ...just are. We are just ourselves ... we just are. Brett, it's so nice to be... the rare kind of person it takes for each of us... to be special friends. We 'just are'........

I remember vaguely talking to Brett just after Tommy's death ... I was so deep into grief that it's a wonder I could even talk to another human soul. I didn't expect to really hear the 'real' things she said to me... she had been 'there', too. I heard it, I could feel it and I couldn't look long... I 'saw' it.

I stayed away from ... people. I grew so tired of hearing the things people said in ignorance of not knowing how it is to lose a child. I know how you feel... I understand... oh, things are going to be alright... you've got to come out of this... why, it's been 2 weeks and you're still like this!

Now... when I see some of these people... I turn and walk in the opposite direction... they are 'empty' people who use 'empty' words. Truthfully, during a conversation with these people.. if I were talking I would just simply quit talking, so weary of of talking to 'empty' space. I would find my way away from them. They only care for what's in their mind... I can understand. We are all different and we all dance to a different beat in our lives.

I stayed away from people because if that was all they could say because they knew nothing else to say... I didn't want them in my life. They didn't know how I felt, they didn't know the first thing about losing a child. I was grieving in the most awful way but, I could hear the light-hearted way and flip way of telling me they understood.

What's strange is that I never asked anyone to listen to me so, I could cry and talk... they didn't know anything. If they'd never spoken to me at all... it'd been alright, I didn't share my feelings with them to begin with. I have to be alone with my pain, my grief and heartache. The only living souls who can come 'that close' is Skip and our Pups.

There are the people who 'run to you in concern because they just heard'...... whenever they have a 'chance encounter' to see you. You don't have to look for these people ... they 'find you'. It gives them pleasure to get to ... just talk and let other people see what good friends they are... they 'really care' about you. Their words are ... empty, but, so wonderful and so caring... and you might stand there a little while to..listen, smile and nod your head.

I have often thought ... let it be your child, a child you've known for 40 years... a real person, strong and vibrant in life, a wonderful personality you 'knew', and knew was 'your' child... you would fight someone who dared to say empty things to you. It would evoke such anger in you at those people. I felt that anger and then, I felt ...it doesn't matter.

I chose to walk away at times, and not even bother. I only allow certain people in my most private life. There are layers in my life where certain people can come to.. and that's as far as I let them. I just walk away from all the others... and let them ..be.

Think of a dartboard with its circles and the darts with the velcro on them.... each circle gets closer to the 'bullseye'. Each 'dart' sits on a different circle, some close to the bullseye and some... not so close. Some never reach the bullseye. Think of me like the... bullseye.

Once in a 'lifetime' a rare person will come along in life ... that can move alittle closer than others... on 'my dartboard'... you will see no more than a handful of darts close to the center... they would represent the people outside of my Pups and Skip, that I let get that close to my heart. It really hurts to love with one's whole heart, I know. I have to be careful there.

I love people and I love being around them. I love to hear laughter and fun when people are together... what a beautiful song they make. It makes me happy. I can stand at a distance as I did in my young life and ... 'feel and see and hear'... what a real family is like. I love that feeling and I admire real.. families. I only know several 'real' families now... I don't think families are as close now as in the past. They don't know how fortunate they are... or... they could be just like me. They may be on paths similiar to the ones I've traveled in life.

I do know this for certain... I miss Tommy with my very heart. He was our life.. he and our Pups. When Tommy died ... our life gradually came to be so empty without him. I don't really remember last Christmas but, this year I'm very aware he is gone.

It's like we don't know what to do now in a way...... Tommy was always there. He was our best friend as well, as son. It's left such a big 'hole' in our lives.... he was our 'family'. Taban was our family that we knew would grow up with us in his life. Both of them are gone now.

McKenzie... we didn't know if we'd see her or not ... her mother and family wanted her to themselves. I understand... they love her dearly. They didn't want Tommy to see her... he had taken care always to pay child support, $100.00 every week, and kept medical insurance up until he died..... to take care of his daughter the whole time after they separated... no one told him to do it. He did it on his own. I'm sad she never got her insurance money... from Tommy, after he died. Tommy loved his daughter, Taylor McKenzie just as he loved his son, little Taban Mitchell. They were named after him..... Tommy Mitchell. He wanted them to have his same initials.

Tommy chose Taban's name especially... it means 'genius'. He felt it important to have the right name to make a difference in one's life. He took alot of time to choose Taban's name... I remember. I remember us talking and laughing and a silly joke I did on a video at about the time he chose the name. I miss you, Tommy. We all had so much fun and were always trying to find ways to make the other laugh. You and Skip... were something else!

He loved his daughter and every step he took to see her... was filled with such turmoil and pain. McKenzie's mother loved her so much that she couldn't let Tommy come close to her, no matter that he did right by her... and no one asked or demanded him to.

Alot of men just go on their own way... they are the ones who got to see their children. It's strange in life how when people are genuinely good and mean well... they are the ones treated worse and are forgotten alot of the times. I know this to be true.. in my life, in Tommy's life.

I saw Tommy cry over McKenzie and over how her mother kept him away... and when he did begin to have a relationship with her... her mother would call every hour or so, to cause upset. The last night she spent the night at his home.. her mother called late that night.... and Tommy walked down the hall because they'd heard someone talking. It was McKenzie on the phone with her mother and it was close to midnight.... McKenzie asked him to leave the room because she was talking to her mother. That broke Tommy's heart and this, he never got over. He never saw McKenzie after that.... and not so long after is when he died.

Tommy had such sad things in his heart before he died that all contributed to his death. A terrible thing happened in Tommy's life in May, 2009 that forever affected Tommy and he couldn't get past that pain, though he kept on going. For now, I can't write about it.

Tommy's life also, held alot of tragedy... no one would have ever known.... he was strong and he hid it all so well, just like his mother. He cared about other people and didn't think of just himself.

Tommy died in the month it happened in, one year before. My son.... how I felt your pain, it was like I was the one it happened to. I cried... so much for you. You didn't deserve so much that happened in your life. This truly was something that happened out of the blue when you were on the road... living your own life, until someone's life ... touched yours to forever change it. You cared so much and couldn't get over the pain and grief others were suffering.....................

Tommy died.... and Taban has to walk the paths his mother leads him on... and they are in directions we can't just follow... because she is moving on with her life. I don't hold that against her at all... it's understandable.

I just wish she could let Taban have that special little path that leads to us where he could travel it to see his Granny Gee and his Pa Skip... I'm sure she hasn't thought of it... because she would have done that. She wouldn't have to travel it... we'd make sure Taban was safe when traveling on it.

These are the things I am thinking of this morning on the first day of this new year.... 2012.

My son, Tommy, did 'die a beautiful death'... that's true. He did die being happy, one of the few times he was in his life.... running, laughing, squealing, and playing with his son on the beach. Just the evening before he told me that's what he was so looking forward to, the first time sharing with his son at the beach.

I 'look' into my mind for a moment.. and I feel this feeling in my heart and my eyes fill with tears.. it always happens......... I 'see' Tommy running with Taban on the wet sand and the sun is shining in his blonde hair, and his eyes are happy and he is making a beautiful memory for his son... to always remember his daddy by.

Laughing, eyes shining with happiness for the moments with his son, and he... walks into heaven. He left his son a memory he can always treasure... his daddy loved him and played with him right up until he ... walked into heaven that 'very' minute.

Yes, my son died ...beautifully ...Taban, he loved you with his very heart. Tommy, you died beautifully... and though you did... I have that comfort ... I still miss you with my very heart. It still hurts in the most .... bittersweet way.

I 'see' golden-colored light and the colors of the ocean... blue-green and happiness around you as you left ... Tommy. It really is beautiful in the most painful way in my mind.