Tommy’s Box that sits inside Tommy’s Chest… the contents of this box are my very last moments with my son. This box hurts me more than anything in this world… this box was in my mind as I wrote the poetry below……
The Christmas ornament I felt I needed to get to put on our Little Christmas Tree… we never had a little Christmas Tree until after Tommy died. The Christmas Angel ornament was given to me by his wife after Tommy died… I can’t remember her giving it to me… but, somehow I ‘know’ she gave it to me.
When Tommy died … it crushed our world, we still feel the aftermath of it all… life can never be the same with him gone. These are things that one day Taban will want … he’ll see photos of his daddy, hopefully read my blog… he will know he wants to come to his daddy’s mama… I have things for him, can tell him things about his father… that no one else can.
I don’t mention my granddaughter because she’s never shown interest in her father, us. I’ve never just talked to her by phone. I’ve always updated our address, phone numbers… we don’t live far from either grandchild. We don’t force ourselves on anyone… we are … just here.
Taban was very close to his daddy, he was in the stage of ‘wanting to be like daddy’ when Tommy died. There’s a country song, something with ‘buck-a-roo, I want to be just like you’… I’m not good at remembering songs… this song touched my heart and I used to tell Tommy that the song made me think of him, and Taban. Tommy would get tears in his eyes… he loved Taban with his very heart… Taban loved him back… he wanted his daddy’s love.
Anyway, that song … makes me cry if I hear it… maybe that’s ‘why’ I can’t remember the name of it when I want to. I would love to have it to put in Taban’s Chest. I would love to have the song ‘Rhinestone Cowboy‘ to put in Tommy’s Chest… when Tommy was a little boy, that was his favorite song (that, and the silly song ‘The Devil Went Down To Georgia‘ :))).
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It’ll Be Christmas Again … Without Tommy
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
As I laid there, I tossed, I turned
My thoughts were like hot water
Burning me here, burning me there
I could not lay in any one position long
Let me get up, come to my keyboard
Type out the thoughts that are torturing me
I stand in my mind’s Memory Hallway
Looking at the many doors on either side
I see the floors … waxed, shining
With a soft, golden glow
The walls are a neutral color
So, I can add any color in my mind I want
The hall is lit with many tiny lights
It’s not a scary place, just only beyond certain doors
The lights remind me of the Light In The Bottle
That our friend, Cindy, made for us
In fact, at this very moment, I’m changing all the lights
To Bottles Of Light to softly light my path
As I float down my mind’s Memory Hallway
That’s better, for it truly comforts me
There are special chests on each side of the hall
Funny, I try not to ever see them
They are Memory Chests, ones I try to avoid
For the pain, grief I can’t bear
I try not to open the lids to the Memory Chests
I have replicas here in the physical world
Of three of those chests in my Memory Hallway
My mom, my brother, my… son
I did something yesterday I didn’t know I was going to do
I opened Tommy’s Chest, my son’s chest
I felt I had to have the Christmas/Angel ornament
Holding his photo… I wanted it for our little Christmas Tree
There were things in there that I held in my hand
I held to my heart… I held to my face
My tears fell on them, absorbed into the cloth
My Mother‘s Tears for my only child, my son… Tommy
I looked at the green plastic Tommy’s Box sitting in the chest
My mind ‘knew’ what was in that box
Photos of another Box that Tommy laid in
Just as his Last Photos lay in… this Tommy Box
These are the thoughts torturing me this morning
I can’t sleep, I couldn’t just lay there
I had to sit me up, walk me here to my keyboard
To get relief from all going round, round in my head
In my mind I could see a cloud of pure, white, thick cotton
Fluffing around Tommy’s Box, until I couldn’t see it anymore
I saw it going back into Tommy’s Chest, the lid close
On the memory of what my eyes saw yesterday.. when I opened it
This happened in my mind… but, here in my physical world
There’s no pure, white, thick cotton to wrap Tommy’s Box in
It sits in Tommy’s Chest, all one has to do is to open the lid
Easy to take out, easy to open, but… not easy to look at
The contents of Tommy’s Box is the closest to ‘being back’
Back to very moment standing there looking at my son
With shock, disbelief, numbness in my heart, my body
Looking at my son, not believing it was him… laying there
The contents of Tommy’s Box are of the Last Moments
This Mother spent with her son, not talking, not laughing
As we always did… he didn’t say a word to me
My words to him were in my mind as I stood there looking at him
Through eyes filled with tears, the worst pain I’d ever known
I could see him, I couldn’t see him, I wanted to see him, I didn’t
I wanted to see him moving, talking, laughing… but, I … didn’t
Silence… my son lay there not moving, talking, laughing
He … just lay there, he wasn’t … anymore
His very essence had left his body … to where did it go?
Where did you go, Tommy… where did you go?
Why can’t I feel you anymore as I stand there?
Questions in a grieving mother’s mind
That will never be answered
That’s ‘why’ this grieving mother is always looking
To see Tommy if something unusual happens
She knows anything is possible
Why, you might ask
Because… through time miracles happen, strange things happen
This mother has seen a lot of them through time… she believes, she ‘knows’
Thoughts, visions in my mind of the contents of Tommy’s Box
Were burning me this morning, as I tried to lay in bed, go to sleep
I had to sit me up, come to my keyboard
To look for comfort, to tell someone without saying a word, I don’t want to wake Skip, the Pups
I look at my body in my mind, all the scars… lots old, some new
I see many places my thoughts burned, scars will be left
Here, in my physical world… you can’t see a thing
But… a smile … you don’t have to be burdened with my grief
I’m so thankful to be able to come here
To write, to talk … you who read, choose to
Choose to listen to my soul’s pain, my cries
To feel what it feels like… to be a Mother Who Grieves
I pray that it never happens to you
Only … here … will you see, feel this kind of pain
Because… our children are supposed to outlive us
Most likely, your children will always be there for you
My only child won’t be there for me
His two children won’t be there for me
I only have Skip, our Pups, our Friends
I have You, here… to comfort, care for me
To read, to listen to this pain
That builds up inside me, no where to go
But… here … in my written words
To be read by those who care, are curious, want to know
What it’s like to Lose A Child
How it feels to be a Grieving Mother
Without experiencing these things yourself in real life
My prayers are that you never do… my prayers are good wishes for you… I care
It’s Christmas again without Tommy
The third Christmas he is gone
I know that all the Christmases left in my life
It’ll be Christmas again… without Tommy
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