A Few Precious Moments of Being Granny Gee …


A Few Precious Moments of Being Granny Gee …

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

 

 

Both Photos are owned by me … they are two of  the few precious photos to validate me being ‘Granny Gee’ at one time.

 

 

Sometimes … I think about a little boy I used to be close to.  I miss that little boy with my very Heart.  He looked just like my son.

We would sit on the couch talking, while kicking our legs … having such fun talking about all kinds of things.  I would weave stories, so would he.  So much like the son I had.

I thought it was for always.  Aren’t grandmothers, grandsons … forever?  Grandmothers, granddaughters?  I am grandmother only by name.  My son would be very sad to know that they aren’t growing up to know me.

You would think I would hate, dislike the mothers … I don’t.  I respect that they want their children only for themselves, and their family.  It’s sad … mothers can be like that … cutting off a father, cutting off his family as if they never existed.

When one has a son … the family, grandparents learn this a lot of times.  It’s sad.  The mother has control … I’ve seen grandparents fight like hell to see their grandchildren … causing bad things, bad feelings … pure ugliness to happen.

Well, this grandmother will never do such.  I’ve been a pawn and … I grew up in such bitterness, ugliness … I’ll never inflict it on anyone else.  I respect people, their wishes though sometimes, I don’t understand them.  I know I have my feelings … and hope others respect them.

I’ve missed some of the best years of both my grandson, granddaughter.  I can say that one day … karma will probably take its toll on the mothers.  I don’t have to hate, harbor ugly … mean feelings toward them because

Life has a way of teaching its own lessons.  I know … I have been a student.  I have learned the hard way.  Maybe somehow … it’s some of my … karma.

Saying all this doesn’t dim my memories of a precious little boy … a precious little girl that my Heart truly loved.  I have my treasured memories of being a real grandmother for a little while.

 

 

Note by this Author:

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

I’ve still never understood why my son’s family was cut off from my grandchildren’s lives.  Whatever … I respect it.  I’ll never create a scene … and the mothers know that … they don’t worry at all.

I’ll just carry my precious memories of getting to be a grandmother for just a little while with each one with me to my grave.  At least it was better to have known for a moment how it felt to be Granny Gee than … to never have known.

Oh … ‘Granny Gee’ is the name my son gave me for my grandson to call me.  Oh, how special it was to hear, see a little golden boy run toward me smiling, calling “Granny Gee!  Granny Gee!”

I write as me, and Granny Gee in memory of my son, grandson.  My granddaughter never had the chance to learn to call me anything.  Her mother remarried to have her call her step-dad ‘daddy’ … as if none of us ever existed.  Whatever her reasons for that … I won’t question them.

No hard feelings, anger nor ugliness exist in my Heart.  I grew up learning Life has many twists, turns.  Some of those twists, turns are ‘off the wall’ … but, it’s because of what people have in their heads … no matter if right or wrong.

I respect, accept … go my way.  I can’t allow anymore unhappiness into my life … unnecessarily.  I’ve lived too much of it from childhood into adulthood.

I’ve lost most all my family … so much in my life through time.  Now … I’m older … I treasure what I do have.  Most of all, I treasure Skip and our Pups, Kissy and Camie … and my few precious friends.

I don’t know how in the world I grew up without all the Hellfire in me one would expect.  How in the world did I not grow up to be ‘worse than worse … badder than bad?’  How in the world did good overcome all I saw, learned, suffered as a child?

Don’t Feel sorry for me … I don’t.  I’m old enough to know sometimes, things are out of our control for whatever reasons.  I went through a lot of extra grief when my son died … because I lost my grandson, also.  Also, granddaughter.  I never understood … I don’t have to.  I’ve coped with it … let it go … everything is alright.

The sad thing is … I was always the best friend the mothers of my grandchildren could possibly have. Why?  Because they are a part of my son, me.

That’s The Beauty Of Becoming … Older


That’s The Beauty Of Becoming … Older
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
Do you have to constantly get something from another … for you to give your friendship to?
Do they have to ‘buy’ you?  I remember being younger, and the ‘friends’ I had … weren’t real friends.  I had to keep giving … this was before I learned I ‘could say no’.
One memory comes to mind, was when someone I really liked, came to visit me.  I was probably eighteen… she was a little older.  She came into my living room all smiles, confidence.
She looked me sitting on the couch in my pretty nightgown, my book close by.  She said, “I want your nightgown!”  She saw my book, said she’d like to have it, too!
I gave her both… I didn’t want to.  I didn’t know how to get out of it… gracefully.  I would have been very embarrassed to have explained ‘why’ I wanted to keep my nightgown, my book.
It took years to learn to ‘say no’.  I look back to ‘before’… when I should have.  It would have saved me so much grief.
You know how being young… you think you have to do everything someone else tells you … or someone’s going to get mad at you.  Back then… I couldn’t bear for anyone not to like me, much less be mad at me.
Today … I am myself; I can tell you ‘no’!  If you don’t like it… or turn against me … you just have to.  I can go my way… ‘let go’ of you.  I would never if possible say ‘yes’ to something I don’t want to do, or agree to do.  I would wish you all the best.
That’s the beauty of becoming a little older…
Photo Credit/ Story are owned by me (of me), #Gloria Faye Brown Bates/ aka #grannygee

They Had Better Hurry Up And Enjoy Their Food Before They Are Turned Into Crackers!


Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

They Had Better Hurry Up And Enjoy Their Food Before They Are Turned Into Crackers!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Skip and I spent a nice day together.  We had things to do, places to go.  :)))

We decided to go to Kentucky Fried Chicken to have lunch.  Skip likes to go there on Monday, Tuesday… so, he can get the ‘senior citizen‘s discount’.

We went to the buffet bar, got our meals; sat down to eat.  I sat there, people-watched.  I noticed all the ‘old-timers’ were coming in for the ‘senior citizen discount’… it was very noticeable.  Only a few people were young in there.  :)))

I was enjoying my lunch when Skip said something that made me almost choke in laughter.   It hit me as so funny.  You see, I’ve been telling Skip that one day probably before we die… ‘we old people‘ are probably going to be turned into crackers, wafers to be a food source for the world.

I am reading so much lately about things happening in the world that was in books to read for entertainment when I was a young person.  Now… these ‘crazy’ things are becoming reality!  For example, the drones…. they’ll be everywhere spying on people… and no one will notice them… they will look like little insects.

In some restaurants… drones can be used to ‘fly’ food to the seated customer at their tables!   I read that one day ‘soon’, drones will be used to deliver pizza … after obtaining permission to fly over people’s property… permission to use their ‘air-space’.  Isn’t it amazing?

Some things I’ve read… concern me.  It brings back to me, a memory of a movie I watched as a young person.  Lately, it’s been on my mind… the name of the movie is Soylent Green (Thank-you, my friend, Prenin, in England… for helping me to remember the name of the movie).  I just received the movie in the mail; I ordered it from Amazon.com.

I haven’t seen this movie since being very young… it made an impression on me.  It’s about feeding the masses of people, and the food source used.  Old people…. if I remember right… were turned into crackers/wafers for people to eat.

Yeah… they were eating their grandmas, grandpas…. right and left!  I don’t have to worry about that… I don’t have either one left in this world… and I have no desire to eat your grandma, grandpa… so, they are safe with me!

I’m going to take time to watch this movie soon.  I can’t wait to see it again… to see if I remember right.

Anyway… I’ve been getting Skip interested in watching this movie.  I told him about the food source in the movie… he agreed there’s no telling what will ‘happen one day’.

I saw a group of ‘old’ people come into Kentucky Fried Chicken.  I watched as they walked up to the counter to order.  They were given their trays, cups… everyone walked to the buffet bar to get their food.

I was watching as they began walking to their table… I was in my own world, deep in thought, thinking about that movie… when I heard Skip say…

“They better hurry up and enjoy their food before they are turned into crackers!”

A Child Disappears… Thank You, Hell…


 

A Child Disappears…  Thank You, Hell

 

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

I saw a distraught mother on the news last night.  Her little two year old son just disappeared from their yard.  She’d only taken her eyes off from him for a couple minutes.

 

The police, neighbors searched for hours.  This morning I watched the news to see what transpired through the night.  The little boy was found!  That little boy was… found!

 

Strange enough… the little boy was only a short distance away in someone else’s home…….. they didn’t call anyone to say ‘hey, I have a child that’s wandered here…. I don’t know where he came from’…….

 

I wonder if they were watching the news, saw that young mother’s face, heard her voice?  I did… and it tore at my heart.  She could barely form her words for crying, fear for her child.  I wanted to reach out to hug this woman… my heart recognized sincerity.  Her child was really …gone, unlike a lot of women I’ve watched closely when their children ‘disappeared’.

 

I ‘heard the ‘shock, disbelief’ in her voice… I ‘know’ how it feels to have a child gone.  I know how it feels to not know where to look, not to know if it’s dead or alive.  My own experience lasted 3 years… I never knew where my child was.  Maybe one day I can write about it… it won’t be anytime soon.  Don’t ask me about it… I won’t talk about it to anyone.

 

The pain has lasted through all the years… now, it’s mixed with the grief of my child being gone… my child died.  Tommy’s gone.  For now, I can’t write anymore about this.  I could never in a million years describe the pain inside me…. it’s not simply the one experience of one losing a child………. it’s a combination of many experiences that happened, then…. losing that one child.

 

No one will ever know………….  I don’t know if my words are enough to put it all into perspective… maybe one day I can have someone help ‘to write my pain’… who knows the words I don’t… to describe all.

 

On top of this pain ..like whipped cream on a pie .. is additional pain.  Bittersweet….  My son has two children whom no one brings to see me… two mothers who have never taught their children to send even a holiday card, or to call this grandmother.

 

When Tommy was living, he never got a Father’s Day card, Christmas card, Birthday card…. every week he faithfully paid $100.00 for his child… no one made him do it.  He did it on his own.  His child was taught to call their step-father ‘daddy’… to not call Tommy… ‘daddy’.  I saw the terrible pain in my child’s eyes… my son… when his child would ignore him and hug everyone else …but, him.  That child was told not to hug him, not to call him ‘daddy’.

 

Two mothers who never told me I can’t see my grandchildren …. they just never let them in our lives again.  I’ve had to call, feel bad, like I’m imposing, or making someone angry… through the years for the times to see them.  Those days are gone now… I will never call again.

 

I will say this to both mothers… you’ve done wrong to keep them from knowing their father’s mother.  One day in time… you will most likely see how the pain you’ve added to my life, feels… think of me.  Also, think of my words I say to you at this moment…. “I’m so sorry you have to know my pain”.

 

Then again……………………….. maybe you deserve to know what you make others feel.  We learn through … life’s lessons.  We learn through feeling what we do to others.  It doesn’t feel good when it happens to you.

 

I won’t beg either of you for anything.  I’m not angry at either of you, but… I will never forget you for the deepest of pain you’ve added to my heart.  I think I just said I’m not angry at you… yes, I am.  At this very moment in time, I’m very angry at both of you.  Tomorrow… I probably won’t be… until the next time.

 

Let them explain to those grandchildren ‘why’ they never got to know a grandmother who always loved them…. ‘why’  they kept the children of this mother’s son…. away from her.  ‘Why’ they never called and said ‘hi, would you like to see your grandchild?’  Why not… at least once a year?

 

I’m glad I grew up in hell, survived it.  For the rest of my life.. it built a strength I never knew I had.  Thank you, Hell…. you made me so strong to go through the things I have… no one even knows… maybe one day.

 

I only touch the surface when I write…. beneath is such a lake of pain that even now… I’m not sure if I could survive trying to ‘swim across’ again to find my stories to write.  I’m lucky I have gotten this far in my life…

 

Hell… I have to dive deep to grab bits to write about.  Layers of pure … Hell.  I have to visit for short periods …. it sometimes takes time to ‘come out of it’… it affects me deeply.  It’s like acting… a person ‘gets lost‘ in that character… and ‘finds it hard to come out of it.’

 

The way it is today… I’ve lost my only child, and I’ve lost my granddaughter, I’ve lost my grandson.  I used to be a mother… I used to be a grandmother, and I used to be a Granny Gee.  Now… I’m mother, grandmother, Granny Gee in name only.

 

Yes, I thank you, Hell…. you made me strong enough to make it through all of this.  I’m glad I have been through so much ‘bad’ in my whole life…. it helped make me strong today.

 

I’m still standing……  I don’t give up hope of being grandmother, Granny Gee today.  If I don’t get to be…. I keep in mind of all the many people, things I’ve lost in my lifetime… I’m like the redwood tree… I’m still standing, I am still here.  I’ve ‘weathered many a storm’….

 

I’ve missed seeing, watching two young children who look so much like my child… growing up.  I have wished to see my son in his children as they talk, laugh, play.  I’ve wanted to watch their faces, see ‘Tommy’ in them.  I’ve looked ‘for Tommy’ … just to ‘see him’ since he’s been gone.  He is in these two precious children… I could have seen him all this time.

 

I have missed all of this… it can never be given back to me.  I’ve needed to see, hear my grandchildren during all the time my son has been gone.  I’ve needed to know my grandchildren.

 

No, I won’t ever forget this… and I know the day will come for both mothers to regret not making an effort to let them know me.  Things have a way of coming back to … bite us in the ass.  And it will….

 

Hell….. I know it well.  It’s inside of me… grief, pain, anger.  The mixture is ‘Hell’.  At this moment I ‘feel’ it inside myself… I feel all these emotions.  There are times such as this that I feel anger rise to the surface …  I think about the very things I wrote here.

 

Anger… I’ve fought anger since being a little girl.  I fight it now, for the unfairness in life.  It gradually subsides until… the next time.  I forgive, I don’t forget…. no one forgets.  I’m not sure anyone ever… really forgives, either.  I do, I don’t, I do, I……………………………..

 

I really try to be ‘perfect’… I just can’t do it.  I wonder ‘why’ I think I should be ‘the one to not feel a certain way’… why I should be the one not to hate, to be mad, or do things others do?  I slip up… and get really angry, I say ‘bad’ words… I feel very bad afterwards.  There have been maybe several times I ‘never felt bad’… afterwards….

 

Getting back to the little boy who got lost…. this is what I began to think about after watching that on the news.  It’s strange how our thoughts ‘go everywhere’ … when triggered by events.

 

I began thinking of when Tommy was gone as a child… I felt that woman’s pain … as her voice tried to put into words to let the public know her child was gone… I ‘felt’ her fear… fear that takes away one’s voice, makes one breathless…  trying to breathe for the pain.  I could feel her mind … the thoughts flying in her mind like a bird frantically beating its wings trying to get out of a cage… yes, I ‘felt’ that mother’s pain.  I ‘know’ that pain, too…..

 

Thank you, Hell… for making me so strong.  I’m glad I get mad sometimes… it gives me added strength to go on with life.  I just remembered something I had forgotten….

 

When I was very ill after being diagnosed with cancer… going through surgery, chemo treatments… Skip used to say little things to make me feel anger… to make me fight.

 

Later, he would tell me ‘why’ he said things… he didn’t want me to die… he wanted my ‘fighting spirit’ to come out… come out it did!  He ‘knew’ it would… he knows ‘me’ very well.

 

I got mad… when I got mad, I got stronger.  I’ve always been that way!  :)))  I began to get better using anger … I meant to get well.  I bet alot of you are this way… anger can be strength in a positive way.  I’m sorry to say… all my anger ‘inside’ isn’t positive.  I’m not perfect at all.  But, it works in a positive way, too.

 

Okay… back to that little boy who got missing.  How did that child get into an apartment within seeing distance of where it disappeared?  Who were the adults in that apartment?  Why didn’t they report that they had the child?

 

One knows the child didn’t belong there… surely they knew it better than anyone else… ‘hey, this child isn’t ours… how did it get in our home?”  Why didn’t they call the police… or look outside to see the commotion going on?

 

Maybe the little two year old boy forced his way into their apartment, you know… maybe a home invasion to steal some milk or something.  No… that little boy didn’t go into that apartment by himself… I paid attention to the outside door when it was shown on the news……

 

So far, the police aren’t saying how the child came to be in that apartment for…. get this… seven (7) hours.  Within…. seeing distance of where the child disappeared from.

 

This mother has gone through Hell… we all experience Hell in different ways.  I really am sorry for this mother…. her eyes, her eyes.  I saw her eyes…. I ‘knew’ that look…. she was looking inside so hard, so fast… trying to see in her mind where, how could her child have disappeared so quickly.  The fear, shock, disbelief was getting in her way.. she couldn’t see past it all… her mind was numb.  I’m so thankful her child was found.

 

This reminded me of some of the Hell I’ve known… the Hell that made me stronger… strong enough to survive so many deaths of loved ones, the death of my only child, the loss of so much in life, the ‘bad’ things that have happened in my life, the abuse… verbally, mentally in my life as a child, a young woman… so much that no one knows.

 

Thank you, Hell… you only made me stronger.  Not only that… anger has given me strength… positive strength.  Sometimes … I still get mad… I’m not perfect… so sometimes, I’m not positive though… I try to be.

 

Sometimes… I say a ‘bad’ word….. maybe more than… one.  Maybe more than …two.  I’m always so sorry afterwards… and ashamed.  Sometimes… I wish I wasn’t… but, that’s just the way I am.  I care… I want to be a good person… I really try.  I am… but, I can be mean … sometimes.  I try not to be any meaner than I ‘have to be’….

 

Thank you, Hell… you made me strong enough to come this far in life.  If I were babied, treated well through all those years… I would have died young.  I wouldn’t have been strong enough, or have enough anger to fuel me to get through bad times……..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Skip’s Grandma Lois… Hang On Tight, Granny!


 

SKIP’S GRANDMA LOIS…  HANG ON TIGHT, GRANNY!

 

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   aka GRANNY GEE

 

Skip grew up close to his Grandma Lois.  She was his father’s mother.  Grandma Lois was Director of Nursing at the hospital where they lived.  Skip loved going to the hospital as a young guy to talk to the nurses who worked under her.

 

The nurses would be talking and laughing with Skip … he was a handsome young man!  Grandma Lois would come walking up the hall… they’d scatter going back to work.  She was very stern with them, and didn’t like them to be ‘playing’ on the job.  She was of the ‘old school’.  She was very professional.

 

She was a very serious-minded person, though she did have a sense of humor.  She could play music… by ear.  She didn’t know how to read music, but, she could play the old-timey piano she had, singing for family and friends who came to visit her.  Grandma Lois could play the guitar, mandolin, and banjo.  She loved to sing songs such as ‘Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey‘.

 

Grandma Lois loved to eavesdrop … she was on a partyline of six.  Skip would come into the door talking and she’d hush him up quickly!  She loved to eavesdrop on Lizzie, one of her neighbors.  She’d talk about Lizzie after going to church …she’d tell Skip all about what Lizzie wore.  One of the times was that Lizzie wore a tacky hat that day.  Skip asked her did it have more feathers than hers?

 

One day Skip went to his Grandma Lois to tell her about a new car he wanted.  He needed someone to sign the bank note for him before he could order it.  She asked him what kind of car was he wanting.

 

Skip described the car to her, it was a 1966 Chevelle Super Sport, 396 cubic inch engine, 375 glorious horsepower, with enough power ….’to pull the doors off hell’!  (Skip didn’t tell Grandma Lois about ‘all that glorious horsepower’).  It was a beautiful copper-brown color.  The seats were of soft, black leather… bucket seats.  It had a 4-speed transmission.  It was truly a beautiful… fast machine!

 

Grandma Lois called up Jimmy, the bank rep.  She told him about the car, that she’d sign the bank note when the car got there… they’d order it and it’d take 3-4 weeks to be at the car lot.  He told her that she needed to come up there to sign the papers now… Grandma Lois said to him ‘Jimmy, I’ll sign those papers when the car gets here, don’t hand me a bunch of junk now, I changed your diapers when you were a baby!’

 

The car finally came…. Grandma Lois and Skip went to pick it up.  There it sat on the car lot… pretty as a picture!  Skip felt excitement as he stood there looking in awe at it!

 

He and his Grandma Lois went inside the office to join the salesman and bank rep (Jimmy).  She signed the papers, they all shook hands.  It was time to leave in Skip’s new car!

 

They got into the car, Skip drove it gingerly as possible to go through the gears.  Grandma Lois was very relaxed.  The motor sounded like a song bird.  They drove… the trip home was 18 miles…

 

Grandma Lois asked Skip to stop at the local country store where Skip and his friends hung around.  The locals played horseshoes there…  there were always alot of men challenging each other to a game.  When they drove up and stopped, alot of friends of Skip’s was there.. they all looked at his new car.  They loved it!

 

Skip’s Grandma Lois wanted a can of snuff, she wanted Skip to buy it for her.  She never let anyone know that she dipped snuff.  Skip got out, went inside, bought the snuff and two bottles of soda.  He came back out and got inside the car.  He started the engine…

 

His friends began yelling for him to ‘show them what that car could do!’  No one had a car like that around there, they loved it.  Skip yelled back that he couldn’t … his grandma was in the car.

 

Then…. Skip sat back in that seat … the feeling came over him that was too strong to ignore!  He wanted and felt he needed to ‘unleash the power’ in that Chevelle!  He wanted to show his friends ‘what that car could do!’

 

He backed out gently into the road…he let the car come to a stop.  He put it into 1st gear………. all of a sudden …’all hell broke loose!’

 

He dropped that clutch, put the accelerator to the floor!  His Grandma Lois was pegged to the back of the seat!  Then…..  he went for 2nd gear!

 

Grandma Lois lurched forward, was thrown back against that seat again!  Skip went for 3rd gear… once again Grandma Lois went forward, and was pegged forcefully against the back of that seat!

 

Skip threw it into 4th gear, it happened again… Grandma Lois was thrown forward and again… she was pinned to her seat.  Skip looked down, he was going 110 mph, they had gone less than a quarter mile down the road!

 

Grandma Lois had begun to holler ..’slow this damn deathtrap down and let me out!’  Skip slowed down to 50 mph.  Grandma Lois was furious!  ‘Why did you take off like that!’

 

Skip told Grandma Lois that the salesman had told him he needed to do that for several times… ‘that was part of the breaking-in process’!  Grandma Lois didn’t say a word.  Skip drove normally the rest of the way home.

 

Later, down at the country store Skip met up with his friends.  They were excitedly talking about his new car.  What a car!  They had never seen a car run like that!   One guy said ‘it ran like a scalded jackrabbit!’

 

Grandma Lois did ride with Skip again, he never took her on such a ride again.  Two months later …Skip left for the Army.  He left his Grandma Lois with the memory of ‘the ride of her life!’

 

 

 

A Storm Was Just Beginning…


A Storm Was Just Beginning……

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I wasn’t feeling well yesterday evening.  I told Skip I was going to take a nap.  He suggested for me to take it on the couch, that way I’d be in the living room with him and the pups.  We could hear the thunder and rain…. a storm was beginning.

I took several soft, colorful ‘mini’ blankets as I call them… placed them together.  You wouldn’t believe how warm, cosy, comforting those ‘mini’ blankets are when you do this.  I placed my pillows just like I wanted them… promptly got on the couch, snuggled into those blankets, and almost… went to sleep.

Thunder… lightening… pouring rain.  For a few moments my mind went back to being a little girl living at Grandma Alma’s house.  I was on her couch in the living room underneath a quilt.

I’m glad there wasn’t a room in my view from our couch because I’d been afraid to look yesterday evening.  :)))  I did look straight ahead while I laid there… remembering.  I had gone back to the past…..

I felt afraid for the little girl in my mind… how she/me sat on one end of the couch tight to the arm of it.  Maybe pressed tightly to that arm made me feel safer… to have some kind of support.

Grandma’s quilt was wrapped around my whole body… I was sitting ‘Indian-style‘ on her couch, tense … afraid of what I was going to see.  It wasn’t ‘if’ I was going to see… it was ‘what I ‘knew’ I was going to see.

In my mind… the thunderstorm was going on … I am sitting there on that couch… seems like it was red vinyl, cold.  The quilt was between me and the vinyl.  I began to open the quilt ‘just a little’ so, that I could begin peeping out.  My throat felt like there was a lump of fear in it… it was.

I ‘knew’ it… there it came ……….. rolling quietly out of that doorway of the bedroom… into the living room ………toward me!  It stopped as if ‘it could see me’….. ‘as if it was watching me’.  I felt fear in my whole body… I closed the quilt up quickly, sat there holding my breath!

I waited, I don’t know for how long… I peeped out again.  I didn’t ‘just peep out’…. I very, very slowly opened that quilt just enough to see if… it was still out there.  It was!  I quickly closed the quilt again, feeling a new wave of fear over my little girl body.

I was so scared as I had in mind the vision of that …. big, blue ball of lightening… as big as a basketball… sitting there on the floor ‘looking at me’.  I ‘knew’ it was looking at me.  Don’t ask me ‘why’ I felt that… little girls can think …anything.

I don’t know, but… I do know….. ‘why’ I never called for help anymore when I was afraid.  I was becoming used to handling things on my own… what could Grandma Alma who was paralyzed, or George who was blind… do to help me?  I’d just been thrown into ‘hell’, I was nine years old.

So, I did the next best thing… I sat on that couch hidden underneath that quilt, frozen to the spot, I couldn’t move for fear ‘it’d get me’.

If I had turned my head to the left… I never thought of it… I would have seen Grandma Alma sitting in her recliner… George sitting in his old wooden, cane-bottomed chair in the next room beside her, talking.

I’m sure Grandma Alma could have seen me…. just the shape of a child sitting there on that couch… covered in a quilt.  She wouldn’t have been able to see the terrible fear in that child as.. she sat there.  I never made a noise… I never cried out what my mind screamed… ‘I’m afraid, please help me… I’m scared!’

I waited in fear, hoped when I looked back out from behind that quilt… that the blue-ball lightening would be gone.  I began slowly to open the quilt again to look … to take a deep breath, my shoulders relaxing as I blew it out from my mouth… it was gone!

Skip was speaking to me… I abruptly came back to the present from the past.  He just saw lightening, he said.  I smiled, and acknowledged that we were getting quite a storm.  Yes, a storm was just beginning ….. not only ‘now’… but, in my mind.

A Message To All Of My Family Members Who Are Left… So We Don’t… Forget


A Message To ALL Of My Family Members Who Are Left…

So We Don’t … Forget

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I’d like for other family members to send me their most special memory of George, Grandma Alma … or any family member whom they wish to remember always.

I know there are many funny memories of George and Grandma Alma as they were always ‘fussing’… it was their way to deal with the life given to them.

Tell it like it really is… they were as ‘real’ as people get… they loved with their very hearts despite being paralyzed, blind.

I will add it here on my blog, so it’ll always be here for someone to read.  So…. we won’t forget.

I don’t think special people deserve to be forgotten… they were real people once.  Even ‘bad’ people should be remembered…..  how else can someone who wonders … know if there’s nowhere to find that information?

I’d like to share my blog with any family members… here is an ‘open door’ for you to be a guest on my blog to talk, write about someone you want to remember for something… at anytime you decide to, as many times as you want to.  My blog is an open platform to you…. my family members.

I hope you’ll take advantage of it.  I welcome you all with my heart… all of you.  There’s no one that I would say ‘no’ to.  I have many cousins, and their children, and children ‘by their children’….. if you read this… know I would welcome you here.

Just email me privately at   gloriapaintsat@yahoo.com  ……….  I care about everyone… just alot of you don’t know it.

I’m always here…  I know you have special memories of certain family members in ‘our family’…. that was kind at one time or other.

The reason I say ‘kind’…. is because so many of us have known alot of grief, abuse, meanness growing up.  It’s only us cousins and our children who are left now…. though ‘now’… I don’t have my child …living.

I never met my mother’s father, he died when she was little.  His name was ‘Glenn’…….

I don’t know my father’s father’s name… it has been lost in the shuffle of time in my mind.  When I try to think ‘back’… there’s a ‘mental block’ there…. maybe one day I’ll remember…  I never knew him as he died before I came along.  I ‘did know of him’.

I hope everyone will think of something they would like to remember… it doesn’t matter how many memories, or how many times in the future you want to remember………………… remember this………..

Here… you are always welcomed to remember…. so that we don’t… forget.

When That Door Opened… All Hell Broke Loose!


There's No One Quite Like Grandma

When That Door Opened Up… All Hell Broke Loose!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/ aka Granny Gee

We sat there, just little girls wishing to be happy.  We had been thrown away …. we were at our Grandma Alma and George’s.  They had a grapevine that grew over a trellis in the back yard.  As children we knew where to go find all the little, cosy places to sit, to dream.  Under that grapevine was one of those places.

Linda and I sat there talking, daydreaming about ‘how we were going to do this, do that’… when we were old enough.  I wished to be a fashion designer, though I was too young then, to know the name of what I wanted to be.

I loved to draw on every white, blank page I could find in Grandma Alma’s books that sat in the bookcase in the ‘front’ room.  I would constantly draw pretty woman wearing beautiful clothes.

While we sat there talking, we were holding clumps of grapes in our hands.  We were eating them as we talked.  The sunshine was shining brightly, Linda’s hair looked so pretty…. she had two plaits in her hair.  I loved my cousin, I felt a closeness to her.

For the time-being we were going to be best friends as well as cousins.  Of course at our young age… we didn’t know that in our family … that wouldn’t be possible.  If anyone ever saw a close relationship forming, they were quick to destroy it.  Being children was no exception… we all learned young.

We had good teachers, the older ‘adults’ in our lives taught us alot.  Maybe not the best things… we learned nevertheless.

I know as that little girl sitting there with my cousin who was a couple of years older than I… I felt proud that she wanted to be my friend.  It lasted for a short time… but, for that time-being it was wonderful.

Through all the years any involvement with ‘family’ turned out just like this relationship… this was how we were taught to be ‘family’… never trust, always break up any two people you see getting close even if it meant saying things that weren’t true… don’t let anyone be close.

They ‘might become real family’…..  there ‘might be peace among family members’… no one could stand that.  Someone ‘had to be prettier than the other’… someone ‘had to have more’… as children we always played ‘king of the mountain’… bullying each other off that mountain… we all wanted to have the ‘upper hand’.

Linda was taken away from Grandma Alma’s to another ‘hell on earth’…I stayed in hell there.  Grandma Alma and George’s house ‘guarded the door to the portal of hell’.  When that door opened up… all ‘hell broke loose’.

I cried over Linda… I didn’t care that she could draw a prettier girl than I could… I wished for her to come back.  I could only hear rumors of where she was taken, I never saw her again until the early seventies when our Grandmother Alma died.  She and her little baby flew here from New Mexico.

At Grandma Alma and George’s … many children ‘came and went’.  Many children ‘came to hell’…. I was one of the few that stayed ‘too long’.

At my Grandma Alma’s … life was hell.  Sometimes it could be so happy, but… only for a few minutes.  There were so many people coming into their home to shake their life up ….at any time.  Come into their house, they did!

The room Grandma Alma sat in every day of her life (she was paralyzed) was in the ‘middle’ of the house.  Her upholstered rocking/recliner chair sat beside an old dresser with a mirror.  George’s old wooden, bottomed chair sat beside her chair…. always.  They sat ‘cata-cornered’.

They sat facing an old tv that sat on a little table in the opposite corner.  In that room, also…. was their white refrigerator.  That white refrigerator that held ‘precious milk‘…. to this day I don’t ‘see milk’ because there I learned ‘not to see or want it’.  It was so costly and Grandma Alma needed it.  She would have given it to us freely…

George looked after Grandma Alma.  He protected the milk for her, her health.  ‘Someone would sneak that milk and drink lots of it!’  I learned ‘who’ …..one of the ones who used to do that….. not long ago in my adult life…. Linda!  She told me that she would drink it all the time, and it tasted so good!  :)))  I was blamed for that, sometimes!

On that old brown dresser sat her ‘famous’ glass of water.  George (he was blind) kept that glass of water filled up for her at all times, even knowing it became ‘ammunition used against him’ later.  She had other things sitting on her dresser…. her many bottles of …. medicine, her alcohol and Beauty Ray lotion.

Grandma Alma’s ‘many bottles of medicines’ made such an impression on me as a little girl.  I grew up afraid to take any more medicine than I needed, sometimes … not taking what I need to take.  I never wanted to be dependent on medicines in order to live life… even ones needed.  I don’t take pain medicine to this day unless I am completely ‘past my breaking point’… crying, and in agony.  Sometimes… I don’t take it, then.

Every day faithfully, George would sit beside her and ‘rub her up’.  He would rub alcohol on each arm and massage it, then… each leg.  As he rubbed, massaged … he would do ‘range of motion’ exercises.  For over twenty years, George did this faithfully, several times a day.  George loved our Grandma Alma.  Looking back, I think he was trying to do everything he could… to help her to walk again.  If Grandma Alma could have… she would have, she was full of fight, determination.

Though George and Grandma Alma loved each other with their hearts, they still ‘got into fusses’… which could be quite loud.  As children (we were always somewhere close by)…. we would look at each other in alarm that slowly changed to laughter.

We always got tickled at George… he could be LOUD!  He always said the same thing!  It was an ugly word, but, to us it was just absolutely funny.  He would yell loudly ‘G___damn it’!  The whole neighborhood could hear it, he was that loud.  That was George’s ‘famous word… George was truly a good man, he had limitations though… Grandma Alma ‘knew’ how to ‘push his buttons’.  Push them… she would!

Grandma Alma would get ‘stirred up’… she always said the same thing!  As children, we ‘knew’ what they were going to say…. this played out daily… we could sit there and move our lips, say exactly the same words they were going to say.  It was ‘their thing’.

Grandma Alma’s famous words were ‘He-man!  You are a He-man!’  My cousins and I would roll on the ground laughing… Grandma Alma didn’t just say those words, she put drama behind them… and made those words sound out so ‘long, and full of meaning’.

When she did that… ‘the s_____ hit the fan!’  ‘All hell broke loose’… and anyone who was around would just stop doing what they were doing… to listen, while grinning.  It truly was entertaining.  It never lasted long… it was like a fast thunderstorm coming up in the summer… hard and fast, then, it just rained gently thereafter.

Looking back to ‘then’, I can see that was their only outlet to vent all the pent up feelings they surely carried inside themselves.  What in the world would ‘we do’… if it had been us?  I may not have been as good of people as they were with all the odds against them.  They both lived, took care of each other for over twenty years in their own home.

Not only that… the house they lived in, owned… sat over the ‘portal of hell’, it ‘guarded hell’.  When ‘that door opened’… that’s when … real hell broke out.  Grandma Alma and George would suffer all the consequences.

The ‘middle’ room Grandma Alma and George sat in every day (their living room)…. was what I came to think of as ‘The Arena’ through the years.

Every day of their life… drama would unfold in that room in front of Grandma Alma and George… the middle of that floor ‘became the stage’… and ‘everyone came to act on it’.  That’s when ‘all hell broke loose’.

This was The Stage’…. one never knew what to expect.  There were daily shows on it… sometimes, several shows.  These shows were ‘rated R’… for foul language, fighting, screaming, yelling, shoving.  These were the ‘shows that scared, frightened a little girl like me.  Grandma Alma and George ‘had the best seats’ ….. whether they wanted them or not.  They couldn’t go anywhere… they ‘had to watch and listen’… they had no choice.

I ‘saw bad things’ on that stage.  Some of the things I might never can write about … I can still ‘feel’ that feeling in my stomach that reaches through time to this moment.

I can still hear flesh against flesh as punches were thrown.  I can still see in my mind… blood splattering everywhere.  My stomach feels sick from these things from my childhood… even at this very moment.  Biting, scratching, pulling hair, screaming… one would be trying ‘to kill the other’ to dominate, to be ‘the one you don’t want to mess with’.  Always a ‘battle to the end’…..

I would hide in the real living room… at the front of the house.   I would get in the space between the bookcase and couch… with my back against the wall.  I always trembled, always felt so scared.  Sometimes, out of anger someone would strike out at me because I ‘might look like my mama, my daddy’… striking me was ‘getting back at either of them’.  I was the one who felt the pain… my mama or daddy never knew I took blows meant for them.

As a ‘thrown-away’ child… at Grandma Alma and George’s… I was there with no one to protect me…. I could be treated any way anyone wanted to treat me.  Who was I going to tell? A paralyzed woman and a blind man?  What could they do about it?

People were evil at Grandma’s house… they did bad things.  At times they could be good… then, at other times, it was like they were ‘possessed’.  I learned to watch, listen, know when it was a good time for them.  I could tell by expressions on their face, their eyes.

Anger… how that house held such anger …. anger that a little girl learned to harbor in her heart until today.  Anger that she constantly battles to keep from hating…. it’s always there ‘underneath’ the smiles.  It’s natural, it’s a part of a little girl who grew up to be an adult.  She learned it well……

The strange thing about this anger… it isn’t toward anyone.. ‘everyone is gone’ now.  The little girl who is an adult now… still has to carry that inside ‘until she’s also, gone’.

Hell, blue lightening balls, screaming, cussing, fighting and tearing flesh, pulling hair from one’s head, blood splattering in patterns on the floor… if I looked closely I could sometimes see shapes of things like in a work of art…. blood art.

Blood art that would affect me… a little girl standing in shock, feeling faint, heart beating fast, crying inside that someone was hurting bad, stomach feeling those ‘scared butterflies’.  Many things at my Grandma Alma and George’s affected me as a child … even to this day.

Sometimes…. I bled.  Sometimes my skin would break open from being beaten with a belt, or big switch.  I knew how it felt to have hair jerked and pulled from my head, how the stinging pain felt from a forceful slap.  I knew how it felt to be pushed onto a hot, burning wood heater… the pain, the blistering that followed.  I ‘know’ alot of things… how they felt.

I’ve worn more ‘shoes in life’ than any Hollywood star has in her closet…. hers are more fun…. mine were ‘life lessons’ both good, and bad.  The good part is that as the years went by in my life… I am truly a good person.

I could have been …. very bad.  As a young woman, I could have traveled paths I got on to the very end… thank-God, I didn’t…. I wouldn’t be a good person now.  Thank-God, I had the foresight to come to a screeching halt, turn back around and ‘run like hell’ to get off those paths.

I remember once my Grandma Alma getting so angry at me…. it broke my heart.  Her eyes looked as if she were possessed as she screamed at me.  Never had I seen or felt her wrath as I did that day…

I was a teenager and had made friends with a girl whom I had to fight when pushed to do so… I won, I meant to win.  I came into Grandma Alma’s house from school telling her what happened, that now… I was friends with that girl.  My Grandma Alma ‘went ballistic’… her eyes had a light in them that was ‘other-worldly’… she was the most angriest I had ever seen her.  I believe if I’d been close enough …she would have slapped me with her good hand.

She began screaming ‘that girl is nothing but, a whore… nothing but, trash!’  She screamed at me to not have anything to do with her… on and on, she screamed.  I never knew ‘why’ she did that, nor what she knew about the girl.  Strangely enough, ‘that girl showed her colors’ and that affected me in an awful way.  Grandma Alma… was right!  How did she know?  She couldn’t get around to know… how did she know?

At Grandma Alma and George’s home… at any moment… ‘something dramatic could unfold on ‘the stage’… that day I told Grandma Alma, I became one of the characters on it.  Grandma Alma and I… were the only two on it…. my Grandma Alma’s anger hurt me deeply… she always loved me.   Strangely enough… she was usually right about something.  At that moment… I didn’t know that she was… again.

Yes, at any time there… when that door to hell opened… all hell would break loose.  One never knew when they’d be caught up in it… what I’ve written here is only an idea of it… if one knew.  That house guards the portal of hell… even to this day.  Bad things have happened in that house.

I say prayers for the people I see living there.  Time after time again people move there… something bad happens.  At any minute… that door could open and…. all hell break loose!

A SECOND THING HAPPENED TO MAKE ME FEEL STRANGE… THAT WAS SO… TOMMY!


English: Felt Polski: Filc Magyar: Nemez

English: Felt Polski: Filc Magyar: Nemez (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A SECOND THING HAPPENED TO MAKE ME FEEL STRANGE…

(THAT WAS ..SO.. TOMMY’!)


BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/aka GRANNY GEE

Just a few days ago, I was sitting in the dining room with the door open.  I was putting together pieces of art, I’d drawn, painted, cut out… I was ‘building’ a beautiful greeting card for my special friend, Tori.

Tori had sent me a gift bag with lots of special things in it.  She is constantly creating, making wonderful things.  She also, draws.  For a year, she and I, have been making, creating things for one another.  She is first person who has ever made things just for me.  I am so honored to have her for a friend.

Tori will be 20 years old soon.  I can’t help but, to think of McKenzie, my granddaughter who will be 12 at the end of this year.  I paint and do things for Tori, just as I would have for McKenzie.  I’m sad she has to miss out on knowing her creative grandmother… someone who would have enjoyed so much doing things with her.

Skip and I speak of her often… Skip still calls her ‘the baby’… he sure thinks the world of her, he laughs about the trick she pulled on him once… when she squirted him with a garden hose.  He never fails to say she was such a nice little girl.  I never forget the walk we had and I saw a beautiful little girl on the inside, as well… as the outside… whom I really liked, as well as loved.  A part of Tommy, a part of myself, my only granddaughter.

Anyway… when I’m doing things for Tori, I can’t help but, to think of Taylor McKenzie, my granddaughter.

I was sitting at the dining table in that special world of ‘colors, creating’ when for a brief moment … I was thrown back in time….

I ‘felt Tommy’… I even saw a brief shadow for a second, it was so fast!  It was as if Tommy ‘all of a sudden’…. stepped up the step to come inside silently…. just as only Tommy ever did.  He could move so quickly, so lightly..  he could ‘be there in front of you… that fast’!

You would never hear him…. there he would be all of a sudden… grinning that Tommy smile… that beautiful, special Tommy smile that brings tears to my eyes as I write.

I turned my head to the left to look back to the door, for a brief moment…I fully expected for Tommy…. to actually step inside the door!  I ‘felt’ Tommy so strongly that it made my stomach feel sort of sick.  For a moment I was ‘confused, disoriented’…. sort of like ‘back in time to ….back in today’s time’… that’s the only way I know to describe it to you.

Just a few days ago… I saw the wispy smoke in the air in front of me as I talked to Skip… I was describing it to him.  This is in my story ‘WISPY SMOKE IN THE AIR…DID TOMMY TRY TO COME BACK?’.

Twice in several days I’ve felt him so strongly.  I know things happen that have no explanation… I’ve experienced them since I was a little girl.  If it hadn’t ‘been me’…. I would have never believed them.  Since ‘I saw, felt, experienced’ them… I know they are true.

This is the second thing that has happened lately and… I wonder ..’did Tommy try to come back’?

THANK-GOD FOR OTHER GRANDMOTHERS…


English: A photograph of a 2 month old human i...

English: A photograph of a 2 month old human infant, his mother, his maternal grandmother, and his maternal great-grandmother. Each person in this photograph gave birth to the next younger person thus showing four generations in one family photograph. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

THANK-GOD FOR OTHER GRANDMOTHERS…..

 

 

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/aka GRANNY GEE

 

 

I should have known, though an uneasy thought flitted through my mind… only for a brief moment.  I pushed it away.  I’m not one who goes looking for omens… though sometimes, I really think we may get them in our lives.

 

 

I think the reason I felt what I did was because at my granddaughter‘s birth, September 05, 2000…. the other grandmother ‘made it bad’ with her actions when we went to the hospital.  It was a happy-sad event for me.

 

 

After Taban’s birth, Skip and I went to Walgreen’s Pharmacy to get a special balloon to take later back to the hospital.  A special blue balloon that said ‘IT’S A BOY’!   As we walked outside I was happily talking about Taban… how I could ‘see’ Tommy in him!  Do you know what happened?

 

 

That balloon floated out of my hand …. (sometimes, my hands will ‘let go’ and I think it comes from the surgeries I had … for each hand).  Skip and I stood there with such shock… watching that blue, silvery balloon float so far up until it was a tiny, shiny spot in the air.  I said to Skip… ‘Oh no!  I hope this isn’t a bad sign!’  I worried that it might mean something in the future to hurt me…. never believing for a moment it was.  I knew Tommy was fine, I knew Taban’s mother and I had a good relationship… everything was alright.  Taban’s other grandmother didn’t resent me… she was a nice person.

 

 

For three years all was fine… you all know what happened.  Tommy died, and I no longer see Taban… he no longer cares for his Granny Gee if he does see me.  He doesn’t know Tommy wanted me to be very special in his life… Tommy ‘named me Granny Gee for Taban’.

 

 

I’m Granny Gee, not the grandmother you would know…. I’m one in name only.  Just as I am mother in name only.  It’s like a box…. look inside… there’s nothing.  I am that box… my insides are … empty….. when it comes to being mother, grandmother.

 

 

On March 16, 2007, the day my grandson was born, I was so happy.  A real grandson…. I was so awed to think ‘I would be grandmother to a little boy’.  I felt the same way when my granddaughter was born.  I went so many years without grandchildren… I didn’t think it possible to ever be a … grandmother.  Sadly enough… I am ‘grandmother/Granny Gee’ in name only today.  Also, I am only a ‘mother’ in name only… my son is gone.

 

 

I was wanted at my grandson’s birth… I was honored.  I stood there with his other grandmother while he was being born.  How special is that?  His other grandmother was very gracious, she would smile at me as if she ‘knew somehow’… how meaningful being there was for me.

 

 

This grandmother, Taban’s other grandmother… has always been gracious to me.  She’s always treated me very nice… I have nothing but, respect and liking for her.  She never treated me in a way to make me think she wanted to be the only grandmother.  Taban’s mother… has a good mother.  I’m glad she’s Taban’s grandmother.  I didn’t get to know her well either, but… enough to know she’s a ‘good’ person.  Today… I can only say ‘I like you, Taban’s other grandmother’… you ARE a good grandmother… I’m glad you are there for him.

 

 

I think McKenzie’s other grandmother is a good person too… I think her own problems ‘got in the way’ of her ‘really seeing me as a person’.  I’d like to think that.  I could see she could be a nice person when she smiled one time when we visited them… her voice was happy at that time… I liked her.  That was the only time I ever saw that.  Again…. she was like so many people….. one time when they see you, they ‘smile and like you’………. the next time seeing you….. ‘cold eyes and I dislike you expression’.  I have no time for such people… I grew up with ‘family’ just like that… if they weren’t happy… they didn’t want anyone else to be happy.  If they were happy, they expected you to be happy for them… got mad if you weren’t.  Crazy….

 

 

I will say this in all fairness… I’m thankful McKenzie has her other grandmother.  She is a good person in her life, community, church.  She loves McKenzie… and she would fight for her just as her mother would.  My grandddaughter has a good family support… I’m so thankful for that.  No matter that I’m not liked…. this is what matters to me.

 

 

I wasn’t wanted by my granddaughter’s mother at my granddaughter’s birth.  We were called to come… and got the cold shoulder from her….. her actions… made sure to let me know she was ‘grandmother’… she guarded that position well.   Why did she feel the need to act like she did?  I surely wasn’t a threat to anyone.  I’m always quiet, I step back from any public scene ….unless… I’m pushed to the breaking point… then, I will hold my ground in the quietest way.

 

 

In that situation, I stayed very gracious, smiling quietly until we ‘could just get away’.  On the inside… no one knew the pain I was feeling… this was ‘my very own little granddaughter, I had a ‘real’ grandchild’!  I wasn’t welcomed to be there.  I didn’t choose to fight over it… I would have appeared to be ‘bad’.  The other grandmother ‘had taken over to the point’ that she was in scrubs and doing things like the nurses were doing’… she wasn’t a nurse.  Skip told me then… that he didn’t believe that woman liked me.  I remember asking ‘why’?

 

 

It was the strangest thing… Skip and I didn’t know her or her husband at all… in fact, all I knew about that grandmother were only brief moments seeing, hearing her.  I didn’t know her well enough to form a real opinion of her.  All I saw was negative… I only read negative, mean things from her on my computer that she emailed me…. I may have seen her smile several times, though it is hard to remember that.  Her husband always seemed so kind to us.  Skip liked him… at one time, Tommy thought the world of him.

 

 

This lady seemed to strike out at me… never knowing anything about me.  I did let her know quietly in emails in kind words that she couldn’t just do that to me.  She would write back apologizing that she was just homesick for Georgia, and apologized for writing me mean emails.  She would do again, and again.

 

 

McKenzie’s mother had minor surgery… I couldn’t go to her to help… I was taking chemotherapy, my body and mind were exhausted… my hands were like rubber… my legs didn’t have the strength to go anywhere.  It was an effort to go to all my appointments.

 

 

Skip had to help me walk… ‘only when we saw someone I knew’ would he step back and ‘let me walk by myself’… because he ‘knew’ my need to ‘appear strong’ to everyone.    I’ve done this since being a child…. maybe it’s my protection to show people I’m not ‘weak’…  I’m not even when I’m weak!

 

 

I am a fighter.. I mean to win.  When I say that, I don’t mean in ‘bad’ ways’… I’m not a brawler (but, I would be to protect someone I loved, or the ‘underdog’!  I don’t mean to sound ugly… but, Granny Gee would ‘whip ass’!).  :)))  I had to say that!  The devil made me do it!  (I might be the one who got whipped, though!).

 

 

This woman, the other grandmother emailed asking me ‘when are YOU going to come to help me take care of _____’?  She, also, said some more things meant to make me feel bad because I hadn’t come to help change the dressing on my granddaughter’s mother’s surgical incision.  I sat there once again …stunned.  When Skip got home I showed him the printed-out email.  (I printed quite a few out from her).  He read it in disbelief…. and wondered aloud …’ doesn’t she know what you are going through’?

 

 

I don’t think that woman had any idea of how sick I was… whenever she saw me …… she saw a ‘strong person’…. ‘just what I meant for her to see’.  So, really…………….. maybe it’s my fault that I didn’t tell her anything… rarely did I discuss my illness with anyone.  I have always been private, I’ve always kept things to myself.  So really………. how could she have known?

 

 

Writing this out now… has helped me to see that.  I don’t hold hard feelings toward her anymore……….. truthfully…. I hated her all these years.  Just in the last few minutes…. I felt sorry that I never really talked to her, and told her what was going on in my life, how sick I was.  At that time, I may have assumed…. she knew.  I do that…. sometimes.  ‘Seeing her in my mind’… I think she was missing her hometown, family… maybe lonely, sad?  I, now, wonder ‘why didn’t I see that… and care’?  I may have made a friend.

 

 

I always accepted her apology.  I was too sick to think about her… I was fighting the battle of my life… for my life.  She was always like a ‘thorn pricking at me’… during that time.  I look back at that time…. and each time I do… I shook my head… ‘why’?

 

 

This was the second time in one year I went back for major surgery … I didn’t stay in ‘remission’ very long….. weeks?  This woman didn’t know any of these things.  I had gone through so much more than words here can say… to live.  My body suffered so much, my mind… I was fighting to be well and doing a good job at it…. until I went back for a CT scan.  For the second time…. I had to do it all ‘all over again’.

 

 

Before this … I had a fruit and produce store… she came with her daughter (my son’s girlfriend, granddaughter’s mother at that time though at that time she wasn’t expecting her……………………………………………).  I remember this woman walking in the store, she and my son’s girlfriend walked to the other door to stand and admire Tommy’s sports car.  I heard both begin to argue in a ‘good-natured way’… ‘that’s MY car’!  I think Skip had driven it to the store as Tommy was on the road, driving a big rig.

 

 

I’m sorry to say that didn’t make a good impression on me from the beginning.  I may have ‘judged too quickly’… she may have seen that I didn’t like hearing them… making her not like me.  I honestly don’t know.

 

 

I think his daughter’s wife became a very good wife, person when she remarried soon after hers and Tommy’s divorce.  She was so young at the time they married.  That’s not to say she wasn’t a good person before she and Tommy married.  I never got to know her well…. I was on another journey in my life fighting my illness… even when around her when they came.  I didn’t have the opportunity to know her at all.  Though… I had enough time to know that I loved her very much… I felt it in my heart… no matter the times I felt anger toward her.  I’m the same way about my grandson’s mother.  I do love them… whether any of us like it or not…we are forever ‘linked’ to the other because their children are … a part of me… a part of Tommy.

 

 

All I’ve heard from people I know in that area they live at… she’s always busy in community things, church, and I’ve heard this ……… and I love it!  I hear people say… ‘she’s a damn good mother’!  I ‘knew’ that, though.  She loves her child.  Not only that, her husband loves McKenzie… he’s been a good father through time to her.  Tommy honestly liked and respected him.  I never worry about McKenzie… she’s got a good family life.

 

 

Getting back to sitting there at my computer reading in shock her words….  my body was very weak, my fingers were like rubber, my mind was foggy… from the chemotherapy drugs.  This woman was striking out at me from her own unhappiness… saying things that hurt me… this woman didn’t know me well enough to do such a thing.

 

 

I was too weak to fight back.  The saying that one has to pick their battles… my choice was to live.  I didn’t know this woman at all.

 

 

I never knew that lady… she constantly said mean things in emails to me … I was too sick to understand ‘why’ she didn’t like me.  This lady never knew me well enough to know she was being unfair to me… I will write about this later.  Through time … I never got to know her anymore than she ever knew me..

 

 

I can only write what I personally know ‘that affected my life and gave me such grief’ at a time… any normal person would have left someone alone.  I don’t think she even knew I was fighting to live, going chemotherapy, had major surgery… I think maybe she saw a scapegoat.

 

 

Sick or not sick, I’m not anyone’s scapegoat… though I stay quiet, smile, and forgive… I’m the last person to be a ‘weakling’… I was brought up to ‘fight’ to survive verbal, mental, physical abuse.

 

 

Another thing about me that only Tommy and Skip knew… no one else knows this….. when I am the most sick, I never let other see me ‘being weak’.  I pretend to be much stronger than I am… I make myself ‘walk taller, stand taller, head up… all my actions are deliberate’.

 

 

I have done this many times to hear remarks of  ‘wow, she doesn’t look like she’s dying’, ‘you sure are looking so much better’!  I see humor now, in this because… it’s like a cartoon.  When I got out of sight of those people, I would ‘fall apart’ from ‘holding on so long to appear strong’.  How many times did I do this?

 

I never wanted anyone to feel sorry for me.  It’s really funny if you think about it for a moment.  No one knew the agony I was suffering, the pain…. I looked so strong.  When they went away… I would just fall back in my seat as soon as I could get to one, close my eyes with tears falling…. it hurt so bad to be strong.  It ‘still does’… though I’m not battling for my life in that respect now.  I can still see the ‘humor in things, no matter how bad’… a soft, gentle humor that isn’t meant to hurt.

 

 

I battle ‘now’ to stay out of the darkness of grief that threatens to engulf me at any moment… unexpectedly.  I’m strong… though I may find myself on that path at any time… I know how to come back now… I follow the light, the colors of life back to where I need to be.  Everything really is going to be alright.

 

 

When my granddaughter was born… the only moment I felt happiness at that hospital… was when I looked through the window… I was a stranger, the other grandmother made me feel this…

 

 

I looked at my beautiful granddaughter.  She had a little striped cap on her head, she looked like her mother when she was first born.  I loved her mother… but, of course…. the other grandmother didn’t know that… she didn’t know me.  I voiced how beautiful McKenzie was, and how much she looked at her mother.  She was so special, beautiful…. I was in awe.

 

 

The specialness of that occasion was ‘taken away’…..when I saw the other grandmother become angry… because I say my granddaughter looked like her mother!  At that time….. I couldn’t understand it.  Remember this… I’m always ‘connecting dots’… through time.  The ‘whole picture’ reveals itself eventually……….  I love ‘dots’…..

 

 

The nurse was quick to come tell Skip and I that the other grandmother said we weren’t to come back to our granddaughter’s mother’s room, that ‘you have to leave now’.  The shock and upset I felt….. ‘thank-you for telling us, we’ll leave now’… I said quietly.  I held my head up, walked tall, strong… until I was out of sight.  I ‘fell apart’ in the car.  ‘Why’?  Our granddaughter’s mother told us these words…. ‘I want you to be there’….

 

 

The other grandmother had taken control at the hospital… so much so, that she’d gotten a nurse (I think a friend of hers) to let her don some scrubs to look like a nurse…. to ‘help with the birthing.  She made a big production when we first saw her through the glass.  I didn’t recognize her at first… I didn’t know this woman…… ‘anymore than I knew her as the other grandmother’.  That’s how well we knew each other… it never went any farther than that.

 

 

Granny Gee… other grandmothers….. I had them on my mind this morning… thinking I’m so glad that they are there for my grandchildren.  I am not jealous, angry, or even upset that I don’t see them.  I’ve dealt with this now… I have peace inside.

 

 

I have learned that ‘grandmothers’ who happen to be the ‘son’s mother’… aren’t the most important grandmother.  It’s the ‘daughter’s mother’ who is dominant.  It stands to reason… mothers are the ones who give birth to children.  I ‘see’ that now… I have been seeing this for quite sometime.  I wonder how many people who read this… realize how true my words are?  Maybe… I’m the last person to learn this.

 

Regardless…. thank-God for ‘other grandmothers’… from Granny Gee’s heart.