Excerpt #2 From The Book

When the old has to bury the young, the sorrow is immense.

The decisions and choices were made by each adult child, yet I failed to be available for them. The process and feelings of grief and loss were and are insurmountable. I died several times during the transitioning of each adult child. The deaths included the mother-child relationship and bonding. The death of nurturance to each child. The death of each adult child’s transitional period. As my adult children crossed over, died, or made their transition, I became progressively angry, explosive, shut-down, unfeeling, irritated, unfriendly, emotionless, and indignant. There were even bargaining sessions with God. 

     Charles, my eldest child, was light-skinned, born with wavy hair, weighing in at eight pounds. When he turned two years old, it was suggested by the pediatrician that due to him being bow-legged it would be of benefit if he wore braces. After two years his legs were straight, issues of bow-leggedness were resolved, and braces were removed. As a child, he loved to play near the garden. I remember a small garden of tomatoes, and okra ripened vegetables picked off the vines by mom. I recall my finger would get pierced on the fuzz of the okra while still on the vine. The aroma of the freshly picked vegetables being cooked could be felt throughout the house. Mom would fry, in a black cast-iron skillet, salt pork which she cut into small thick strips, fried in a couple of tablespoons of (already used, stored in a jar) grease until the pork meat was crispy. She then added water, onions, fresh garden tomatoes, salt, black pepper, and okra, simmered on low flame for about half an hour, served over a bed of white rice. This humble meal was delicious.        Charles advanced from playing in and around the garden to playing in the yard. He then ventured out into the immediate areas of the housing development where mom could still monitor him. He’d take it upon himself to cross the street to play with his friend whom he met. Their childhood friendship remained intact until my son’s death. Mom forbade him to cross the streets but eventually relented as he continued to do so. Dad would say “Elenore, you cannot raise him in the House. Read further...