Isn’t That Damn Amazing?


Isn’t That Damn Amazing?

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@geegranny on Twitter

 

 

My beautiful mother as a young woman … as a child I wanted to grow up to be beautiful like her.

 

 

 

 

 

My mind goes back to just after my mother died … she died with a lot of unanswered questions … that later were answered by connecting dots.

My beautiful mother as a young woman … oh how I loved my … Mama!  I wanted to be so pretty.

 

 

 

 

A word here, a word there … actions that spoke louder than words.  Reactions to certain things … the reactions that were held in check hoping not to be seen.  Actions speak louder than words …

 

 

 

It’s strange how time … and actions of others will answer questions, telling on themselves if they did something wrong … over the years.

 

 

 

People forget themselves, become … real … once again, never realizing there is always someone watching, listening quietly … connecting dots to … things suspected, things that are a mystery … things that … shouldn’t have happened … dishonesty … deceit … danger.

 

 

 

Not everyone loves someone when they appear to love … not everyone is good when appearing to be good.  Not everyone … is who we think they are.  No, not Aunt Susie … she is Aunt Susie, for God’s sake.

 

 

 

My beautiful mother, and my precious, favorite brother … Rick-Rick.  God, I miss them so.

 

 

 

She can do no wrong, much less ….. !  No!  Eyes refuse to be opened … made to look at the real … Aunt Susie who is a bad person.  A greedy, loose woman who will take from another woman what she wants … even if it means death.  She’ll move her clothes right in the closet without the woman knowing … by that time … it’s too late.  Help-pppppppppppppppppppp me-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

 

 

 

Not Uncle Paul!  No, he wouldn’t intentionally let someone die … to shack up with … Aunt Susie!  No!  You know he didn’t, I won’t hear of it!  Shut your mouth.  You know he didn’t let his wife die … just stand there, watch her die … then call 911.  You know he didn’t!  He loved that damn woman!

 

 

 

As the months, years go by … nothing left but, a recording of a dead woman’s voice crying for help that never got to the person in time … that would have went through high hell, or water to get to her.

 

 

 

Help-pppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp me-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

A voice that sounded from another world, crying the most un-Godliest cry.  A voice that haunts through the years so much so, whenever the recording is playing … the STOP button has to be pressed.  I can’t take it … hurts too bad.  Mama!

 

 

 

My beautiful mother … she had long, curly hair.  She wore beautiful dresses, flowing skirts … she was a princess in my child mind.  I wanted to be so beautiful.

 

 

 

 

A voice that couldn’t have been … that person was already dead at that very time … confirmed by the 911 person.  How did that strange voice come to be on an answering machine … after … a woman died?  The unnatural, haunting cry of someone that sounded as if … in another world.  Tell me how?

 

 

 

Watching, listening, sensing … knowing someone’s life taken in a way that couldn’t be proved.  Everyone dead now … what does it matter?  What does it matter?  Help-ppppppppppppppppppppppp me-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

 

 

 

Ghosts from the past haunt my mind.  Sometimes, I sit in tears … I cry in my very Soul … no one sees, hears, knows all the pain, grief I suffer with … battle with.   When I am tired, weary from battling with my ghosts … I let go … they go back to where they come from until another day to battle.

 

 

 

No one ever saw my mother’s ashes … only Skip, Tommy and I.  No one wanted to see them or wanted to keep them … I didn’t want to keep them from anyone.  Her ashes/container were burned in the housefire that claimed all we had.  Skip found them charred … laying in a pile of debris.  I have them in a rose chest … my mother loved roses.  I painted roses for her before she died.  I miss my mother.

 

 

 

 

I’ve heard of people having to battle with their demons … demons of all kinds.  I am not consumed by my demons … but, I know they are there.

 

 

 

This breaks my Heart … thank God, I have them.  This is charred ashes/container … my mother’s ashes.  Now, they are safely inside her Rose Chest.

 

 

 

 

The thoughts of things wrong, not fair … death, grief, pain and people, animals mistreated, killed, harmed … make me very upset … I sometimes, feel panicky, overwhelmed.  These are the ‘demons’ I have.  These are the demons I wanted to slay as a much younger person.  These are demons I wanted to ‘save the world from’ as a young person.

 

 

 

Did I slay any demons, monsters that threatened people, animals?  Hell no.  I wasn’t big enough … rich enough … strange how strong I was … I was too weak to conquer them.

 

 

 

As a young woman, I wasn’t big enough, strong enough to save this damn world … even with every good person … it’s not enough.  So, we all in our own ways strive to save as much as possible even though … no one notices, or … cares.  Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

 

The monsters, demons still live today … watch your news every day.  See?  They are always somewhere … killing, hurting people, animals.  Cruelty … murder … hatred … anger … are the demons in this world.

 

 

 

How could I conquer something I knew nothing about?  How could I have known people could be so cruel … so awful as to harm another life … be it human or animal.  How in the Hell could I have known?

 

 

 

Could I have conquered them … if I knew?  Sadly … no, I couldn’t have.  As many good people as there are in this world … there’s not enough people to conquer the ‘bad’ in this world.  We just know ‘if we can save at least one or some’ … we’ve done a good job.  If you are one of the ‘saved’ … you see how important it is to be one someone saved.  It means your very world.  Thank-God you say.

 

 

 

So strong … so fragile.  So strong … so sensitive.  So strong … but so weak.

 

 

 

Yet … you’ve never seen a stronger person stand tall like a Redwood tree … to look you would never suspect, know the storms I have battled … the kinds of storms normal-every day people never have opportunity to battle.

 

 

 

People lose dear, loved ones … this is a fact of life.  It’s when they lose them in unnatural ways as many of my loved ones died.  The grief is compounded.  So many people today … lose their precious someones in … awful, awful ways.  Oh, the grief … pain that’ll last their lifetime.  I’m not the only one who feels pain, grief.

 

 

 

Sure … things happen all the time to people.  It’s when they continue to happen, one after the other with challenges the average person never experiences.  I’ve learned to cope with one after the other … no life manual to tell me what to do.  I learned on my own.  I think at this moment in my life … I have done good.

 

 

 

I’ve done good … survived so much … and I’m not crazy as Hell.  Isn’t that damn amazing?

 

 

 

Did I do enough to ‘save the world’?  Probably not … all I can do is the best I can do.  Will it be in a way for someone to think I’m a hero, someone special?  Nope … but it’ll be in a way that I can live with myself, know I’m a good person.  That’s all that matters … if one can’t live with themselves … oh my!  Does that mean I’ve always been so perfect, never done anything to regret?  Nope … it means I went on to be as good as I can be … inside.  I’m so sorry for anything I’ve ever done to hurt, cause grief to anyone.   Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

 

a278c-gloria-2b4-09-20132b072

 

 

Note by this Author:

 

 

Photos/colors (words) of my life are owned, written by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

 

 

These are my very real thoughts, things that sometimes try to overwhelm me.  Names are fictious …

 

 

I truly know I’m not the only person who lives with pain, grief … I’m so fortunate to not be … crazy as Hell.  I remember seeing a letter written from one cousin to his brother just after my only child, my son Tommy, died.  I read the words about me, he wrote.  They said I’d probably never be right again with the loss of my only child.

 

 

I am glad I read his words … they were some of the steel put into my backbone to mean to be … alright.  Thank you, Pete … you never knew this.  I sincerely mean that … I’m glad I saw those words because they made an impression on me in my darkest time.  I send love to you, my cousin.

 

 

As for my mother … I know what I know.  I don’t talk about her to anyone.  This is one grief I can’t talk about … her dying breath was screaming out to me to help her.  I had no way of knowing … I didn’t have a cellphone, then.  I still have the recording in a safe place.  I tried to get certain people to listen to it just after she died … they wanted no part of hearing her.  This is all I can say … it hurts too bad.

 

 

My son, my only child … Tommy?  My grief, pain is unlike any I’ve ever experienced.  A very real part of me is gone forever … no other pain, grief compares to the loss of my son.  Did it change me.

 

 

Yes, it changed me … I spent several years in a dark world … only knowing grief, pain … I was looking inward all that time.  Thank God, I began look outward at life … wanted to come back, live it to the fullest.  I’m okay, today.  But still I ask this question of myself:  isn’t it damn amazing I’m not crazy as Hell today?

 

 

I smile because I can remember Tommy being mischievous, twinkle in his eyes asking me this very question:  “Mama, isn’t that damn amazing”?

 

 

A very real part of me is gone today … not forgotten.  Pain, grief … special memories are left.  I miss you my Special, Beautiful Son.  Love, Mama

My big, gentle Son, Tommy … when he was painting/working with a friend.  He was so mischievous, funny … silly, crazy, wonderful.  I miss him with my very Soul, Heart … he was a very real part of me.  My child, my only child.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Isn’t That Damn Amazing?

  1. All my childhood I was prey, something my father could work his bad moods out on.

    He did it to my brothers too.

    Too Much Hate and bile expended in the blood and screams of his children.

    When mum finally left, I was the only thing between my brothers and this evil monster, so I had to be strong.

    He came close to killing me twice and my youngest brother once, but nobody gave a damn.

    The only way I could keep going after all I’d been through was to promise myself that when my brothers were safe I would take my own life and the suffering would stop.

    Fortunately I was rescued by a girlfriend and escaped his prison to leave him alone and without his paying slave.

    Then came the death threats…

    Today I have to watch myself when out in case he tries to run me down in his car, but he has no hold on me any more and I can expose his evil – which he is willing to kill me for!

    The day he dies I’ll be able to relax a little, but until then I have to be careful…

    Love and huge hugs Gloria! 🙂

    Prenin.

    • Prenin, I remember you telling me a long time ago. It broke my Heart for our friend to ever have been mistreated. I’m very glad Victoria Fairchild isn’t there… we all know she’d make things better for you. 🙂 Love, Gloria

  2. This hits so close to home. I plan on sharing my story in my journal/blog. I find it so hard to bare my soul but that is the reason I began this blog. Thank you for sharing.

    • Thank you for your comment, Kris. I would like to read what you share in your blog. I sense you are a very real person by the words you wrote. I’m honored you read mine. Gloria

  3. Pingback: Soulmates … | GRANNY'S COLORFUL

  4. Pingback: We Become a Memory as We Move On … | GRANNY'S COLORFUL

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s