I Haven’t Forgotten How It Felt To Be A Mother


86ab6-4-20-2013076Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee… Summer 2013………………….

I Haven’t Forgotten How It Felt To Be A Mother
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

This weekend is a special time for mothers.  It used to be special for me…  I used to be a mother.  Now… I don’t have a child.

I still haven’t figured out what I am now, since my son died.  You know… when a woman’s husband dies… she becomes a … widow.

So… when her child dies… what does she become?

Do you know that to lose a child … is … the worst thing to happen to a mother?  I’m fortunate to be this far now…

I didn’t know I would make it to… today.  You see… after a mother’s child dies… at that time… she doesn’t know she is living … she died with her baby.

On ‘that’ medicine from the doctor… (I just can’t remember the name of it) … one isn’t aware… it somehow, puts a ‘buffer’ between you, and the pain, grief.  You know … like you see on tv where people will put books in the rear of their pants… to keep a whipping from hurting.

The medicine kept me from waking up … to know that my child died.  To know the worst thing ever… had just happened.  Skip said he had to keep watching me… I slept like I was… dead; barely breathing.

I could have gone crazy/mental… never to be any good to anyone anymore.  I could be wandering the earth looking for my son until the day I die.  I could have been a lot of things… but, I made myself go… forward.

It took over two years… to at least to begin to even care again… about living.  It was very hard ‘to come back’.

Hell yes, it has hurt all this time.  I can’t tell you the pain I’ve lived with.  I’ll always live with it… the positive is… though I hurt, I’m very aware of living… and can grieve, live at the same time… and …be alright.

Another positive… is that now… I have reached acceptance that my son is gone.  I didn’t know I could ever do this.  It didn’t come easy…

May is a sad month for me.  For now, I won’t write about it.  Some days I feel emotionally-fragile… it’s best to leave it all alone.

Many sad things happened in May… my brother died… a man stepped out of his car in front of Tommy’s big truck… that was the beginning … of the end.  Tommy never could get over it… survivor’s guilt.  He died one year later.  Tommy died in May… the 29th.

Accepting a child’s death… you can’t stop the pain; it’ll always be there.  Just accepting doesn’t magically make it ‘all go away’.  It doesn’t mean ‘one will be alright all the time’.

Acceptance means to me… that I know my son has died.  I know I will never see my son again.  I’ll never hear his voice again; hear his laugh again; never hear his words, “I love you, Mama”, again.  I’ll never see the twinkle in his eyes, his funny expressions….

I was in the process of making my art-room into a combination art-room/dressing room two days ago.  I came across a plastic shoe box.

This particular shoe box doesn’t hold a pair of shoes… it holds two white ribbons.  When I look at the ‘white’ … I feel darkness.

Well, I opened the shoebox up… took the two ribbons out to hold in my hands.  My mind ‘closed up’… my head began hurting; I felt as if someone hit me in the stomach.  I wasn’t expecting it.

It took several hours for the effects to go away.  I couldn’t believe how it affected me.  I know now… it will be some time before I will be able to open Tommy’s Chest….  those ribbons came from flowers… or something from… that night Tommy lay in that… box.  My mind can’t remember….. I don’t want to.

See, accepting a child’s death means you know that child has died; you know he’s not coming back; you know there’s not one thing you can do to change the fact… your child is… dead.  You accept you can’t do a thing to make it different… go forward in life.

Now, if all that pain could lessen.  I don’t know how to make it lessen… I thought it had.  It’s like beneath the surface of our skin… we bleed if we are cut.  One doesn’t have to be cut deep… to … bleed to death, if something isn’t done about it.

Getting back to Mother’s Day… I sit here thinking that I wish every Mother the most wonderful day.  I will be alright on Mother’s Day… I may be sad… but, everything will be alright.

I don’t think I’ll go into a depression this time… this year.  I’ve meant to be alright, I work hard at being.  I have Skip, our Pups… to think about.  They are my whole world.

Tommy died May 29, 2010…  a man stepped out of his car into the path of Tommy’s big truck on May 19, 2009; my brother died in May…

The nicest thing about May is that May 13th is Skip’s birthday.  :)))

Also, there will many, many happy Mothers in this world… there will be many, many smiles… tears of joy.  I’m happy for them… you see, I haven’t forgotten how it felt to be a Mother.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you… I feel tears of joy in my eyes, Heart… for you.

I haven’t forgotten how it felt to be a Mother…

 

 

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4 thoughts on “I Haven’t Forgotten How It Felt To Be A Mother

  1. You are such a beautiful woman ♥ Thank you for sharing your heart with us. If you were closer, I would love to have to coffee, tea (whatever your potion), with you. Have a wonderful day ♥
    simone

    • Reading your comment brought instant tears to my eyes… I’m honored by your words. Thank-you. I would love to do that, if we were closer. :)))) Thank-you, Simone. Gloria :)))))))

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