The Box Under the Light

Note:  I am sharing my story I wrote on here on my Blog:



My son, Tommy … with his little son, Taban …2008



The Box Under the Light …

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee



I heard the soft music before I walked into the room of people.  I didn’t want to look up knowing what I might see.  The music tugged at my Heart … I became more emotional than I already was.  There were many people in the room … the room where ….


I felt myself breathe hard for more air.  My face was wet from the river of tears that flowed down my cheeks like water running over rocks.  I was stone for my tears to flow over … I had frozen inside.  I had became the walking dead … to be dead … all I had to do was to just simply … die.


I did look up but, not to where a part of me was.  I couldn’t bear to.  I could sense the light above that part of me … on display.  


I became a leaf drifting where the wind, water blew me.  I was in an ocean of people … I could feel their energy around me.  I let myself flow over that room … I was here … there.  No one blocked me … I was free to flow anywhere there was an opening in the many people standing, walking, talking … laughing in the room.


Once I looked up … I could see Skip only for a moment standing with two of our friends, Mike and Nancy.  I was across the room … just as the river flows … I had flowed to the opposite side of the room.  I didn’t know if I could ever cross the sea of people back to Skip.  I was gone.


I found myself sitting, talking to my son’s aunt.  I felt caring, love from her.  I stayed there I’m sure because like a moth … I was drawn to the warm light.  I wanted to get somewhere … I was so far away.  I wanted to get to …


I heard a small child crying, “Daddy!”  I saw people rush to pull a little boy off the box in the room.  The little boy wanted his daddy.  My Heart began to miss beats until I thought I would fall into the ocean of people … grief, pain.  I became aware that’s where I was trying to go to in that room … to that box under the light.


I was in a dream … nightmare.  I had been taken to the hospital the night before.  I was given an injection … medicine.  To this day I’ve never remembered the medicine given to me.  Somehow it kept an invisible barrier between me and … somehow … I could talk and smile in my dream.  I don’t know if I acted normal but, I felt I was hiding my ……. I never let anyone see me cry in public.


I floated across the room … I floated forever just as a ship does when it sails across the world.  It took forever.  People spoke to me … people looked at me … not knowing I was a part of … why they were there.  No one stopped me on my journey across that room … I made it to the box under the light.


I stood there … the water ran more freely now over my cheeks.  I stood there … I had become a river of tears.  My water didn’t dance merrily over the rocks singing the whole way … I had become a silent river … as my tears fell soaking my blouse.  I felt the coldness on my skin but, I didn’t acknowledge it.  Nothing was as important as what lay in the box under the light.


I had come to my journey’s end in that room.  I had arrived to why all the people were there.  My shoulders shook as I tried to hold myself up … a part of my very life lay in that box … I walked up to it.


My only child … my son … a part of me … lay in the box under the light.  People had come to view him before he was cremated.  Skip had brought me there the day before … I already knew what he looked like.  I already knew … what my hand would find when touching his head.  I had forgotten until I reached out to touch my son’s face.


I patted his head as I did when he was a little boy to comfort him telling him everything would be alright.  I patted his cheeks … my tears fell onto his hair.  I didn’t wipe them away.  My tears went with him into Heaven where he was.


I touched his hair, smoothed it down and felt … remembered what it was about his hair I felt the day before.  A big scar … stitches from the autopsy done on him.  I almost fainted as the darkness tried to take me over … 


I put my small hands onto his large hands while patting them … I was comforting him in death.  I never cried out loud … no one heard me screaming in my soul … screaming at the knowledge I would never see my son again.  Screaming so loudly in my mind … my son really is dead.  I was in total shock, disbelief … it couldn’t be true.  I looked down into the box under the light … oh my God, it was true.


I felt arms around me … I was led away.  I must have stood there forever … it was time to go.  I felt the air on my face … somehow I was standing outside.  Skip told me to look up into the sky where everyone was staring.  I saw the most beautiful rainbow … the beautiful colors I love so much.  I felt Tommy had made sure colors was there for me to comfort me.  I smiled through my tears.  Tommy!


Strangely … when my mother died … that evening we also, saw the most beautiful rainbow.  Two special rainbows … two most special people in my my life.


I didn’t want to leave … I don’t remember saying I didn’t want to go.  Somehow … I was in the vehicle … on the way home.  I couldn’t get back to the room … to the box under the light.



No one knows the pure pain, grief of a mother who loses a part of herself, the most special part of herself … her child. By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.




Note by this Author:


When you read my grief, pain … keep one thing in mind.  My son died 6 years ago.  I’m not ‘wallowing in grief’ … I’m asking for sympathy, pity when I write.  I am keeping a promise I made when I began to write almost 6 years ago … I will always write about grief, pain to share with people who want to know.  It may help them with others who are grieving, or themselves … give insight.  


I write my true feelings without sugar-coating.  No one has to tell me to ‘get over it … it’s time to move on … so on, so on’.  I have done that … I am at peace in my Heart.  I am alright.  I write what I know best … and I know the ones who can’t bear to read it … can go on to brighter, happier stories to read.  


I write about real life … be it happy or sad.  I am a river of words that will flow until the day I die.


True story … my son, Tommy … died May 29, 2010 on Memorial Day weekend on vacation.  He and his family had just arrived at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.


Tommy took his little 3 year old son by the hand … they disappeared while everyone else went up to the rooms in the hotel to put their things away.  They were planning to stay for a week.


Before Tommy left on that vacation … he had told Skip and I … he was excited about changing his mind to go with his family to the beach.  He was looking forward to playing with his little son for the first time at the beach.  They barely made it in time … Tommy collapsed on the soft sand … died.  He was only 40 years old … in perfect health.


An autopsy showed Tommy died from 3 blockages to his heart.  No one knew.


True story/photo written/owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

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