Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

What Are You Afraid Of?

image from abc7.com
One of my greatest fears is being homeless.  I couldn’t stand not having a roof over my head or having to beg strangers for food and/or shelter.  Maybe that's why I didn't pursue writing as a young woman.  I didn't want to spend a lot of time trying to sell my work and still end up not making enough money to survive.

image from unitedwaytc.org
Of course now I'm smart enough to know that I'll have to work somewhere else until I get my writing career off the ground.  I'm creeping up on 20 years at that "somewhere else" but hey, better late than never to start pursuing my dream.

I have a loved one who chose to live on the streets instead of in a home with his family or friends. Everytime I see him, I let him know that whenever he needs me he could knock on my door. He says he's fine and walks away.  There's nothing in me that would want to live like that and I pray that nothing happens to force me into that type of situation.

image from giantbomb.com
The most fearful of all is death. I mean I’m ready whenever the Lord is ready for me but I pray that I don’t die before my son becomes an adult.  He’s only a little guy and I’m a single parent with a nearly 70 year old father who has no interest in raising another child, having raised 8 of his own plus 2 steps.

That’s why I've gotten mindful of what and how much I drink and eat. It is also why I am seriously trying to drop this other person that I’m carrying around on my body. There is a sexy beast under here and I’m going to find her.

What is your greatest fear?  How do you deal with it?


Thursday, January 19, 2012

Tragedy at Home

 This morning, one of my co-workers was murdered. He, his wife, and his daughter were shot by the daughter's boyfriend. The boyfriend fled with his four year old daughter but turned himself in at a local police station four hours later.

Hearing this news made me both sad and mad. Whenever I hear about domestic violence, it makes me sick to my stomach. Next month, February 7th, marks the 15th anniversary of my mother's death. She was a victim of domestic violence and lost her life as a result.

Throughout my childhood, not a weekend passed where my mother and one of my stepfathers didn't argue or fight. Sometimes, I would wake up to splatters of blood all of the house and since I didn't see anyone laid out on the floor I assumed they were okay.

The week before my mother's death, I remember stopping by the rooming house she lived in every day for two weeks. I even knocked on the neighbors doors and no one had seen her or her boyfriend.

Periodically, I had seen news reports about a woman's body being found by some fisherman in a lake in a small town in Mississippi. Authorities were having trouble identifying the body. The Mississippi and Tennessee police eventually got together and ran her fingerprints. If it hadn't been for the time mom had spent in jail after cutting a previous boyfriend, we probably would have never found out what happened to her.

I had just made it home from a college class when my aunts and uncles showed up at my dad's house. When they told me the news, all I could say was, "I knew it was her, I knew it was her."

Two weeks before my 21st birthday, my mom was gone--forever. Domestic violence, to me, is the worse crime ever. How could you hurt or kill someone that you claim to love? I don't want anyone to love me that much.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Me and These Dreams

I had a dream about my mom last night. It was as if she were still alive and kicking. For some reason she, Donovan and I were walking to her house with bags in our hands. I'm not sure where my car was. Maybe she lived out of town and Donovan and I had caught the Greyhound there and she had met us at the station.

The house she lived in looked familiar but the path that we used to get there was different from the last time I had been there. Now, I guess I had been there before in my dreams because neither she nor I had ever lived in a house even similar to this one. Anyway, it was an addition to a main house where a big tall man lived.

Mom walked in with no problem, but I had to actually lift Donovan up so he could walk through the door. Once they were in the threshold seemed to get even higher. For some reason I wondered if that meant that where ever Donovan and my mom were going that I wasn't supposed to go. I was about to burst into tears when I noticed the tall man standing in the other doorway. He was just staring at me. I don't know what was going on with Mom's doorway, but I had to back up, take off running and jump into her side of the house. I went over that threshold like I was jumping a fence. How weird was that?

I didn't get to see what mom's house looked like on the inside because I woke up (figures). I do remember looking at her and pointing next door and mouthing that dude was crazy. Mom seemed to get scared when I said that and told me not to say it again.

Now, my head is hurting more than it was yesterday. I remember Donovan crying out in his sleep but when I looked over at him he seemed to be okay. (Shaking my head) I hate to think that something would happen to my son, now or in the future. He's just a baby, only three years old. I mean I had my mom for more than 20 years. She was living kind of foul so I knew when I was about 13 years old that she wouldn't live long, but my baby. I don't want to think about him dying. He's perfectly healthy and has more energy than any child I've ever encountered. He's a lot smarter than I was at 3 years old. I just don't know what I would do, how I would be able to function.

I guess I'm having all of these thoughts because next month, February 7th is the 14th anniversary of the day we buried my mother. She was 35 years old when she died, her birthday was August 11th. February 25, 2011 is my 35th birthday. This right here...

Life is too short, especially if we make wrong decisions that could cause us not to live a long life. Her thing was using drugs and fighting with men. My thing is stressing over my job and not taking care of my body. If the Lord says the same, I will make it to 36 years old and beyond. And I'm praying that my son lives to be 103, but in good health, lifting weights and running marathons.