loss – Jenny Grace's Poetry and Creative Writing Techniques

Aunt Mary: Remembering

This is a photo of my aunt Mary. July always reminds me of the family that I lost after a series of unfortunate events. Funny how, although we slip on the mask of normalcy and plaster on a smile, deep down those wounds are still raw and they seep through when triggered.

Summer heat, families laughing together, little kids cradling their hands in the palms of their aunts or mothers remind me of when I was little and Aunt Mary would give me her hot oatmeal cookies. I remember those large dark eyes like onyx mirrors studying me as if I puzzled her. She’d tilt her chin and bless me with that smile of hers. I still can smell the sweet scent of raisins and cinnamon as she placed a cookie in the palm of my hand and folded her hand over mine.

Yes, summer takes me back to sweet watermelon sliced open by my daddy, the pink juice dripping onto the table cloth. Aunt Mary, Aunt Myrtle, Aunt Eltrum, Aunt Gladys, and Aunt Sally all gathered around along with my uncles Bill, Carlton, and Bo, around the picnic table outside in the yard. That blistering Georgia sun never stopped us; we didn’t have an air conditioner, so we didn’t really care. The heat, the sense of belonging, the sweetness of watermelon and oatmeal raisin cookies are memories that return to me in the middle of summer. It has been nearly fifty years since it all ended with trauma that left an indelible wound deep inside my soul.

Over the decades I have managed the loss by reminding myself that one day I will be reunited with my aunts and my uncles, my parents and my siblings in that eternal paradise where there will be no sorrow, where death will be defeated.

Yes, summer reminds me of that wound I carefully cover beneath a mask of normalcy. Truthfully, I hurt from the magnitude of the loss.

I get through this pain by reminding myself that there is a paradise in which God will give me rest and where I will be reunited with those whom I loved more than life itself.

Remembering a Summer Past

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Way back in the summer of 1994 I was driving through Texas with my three year old son Alex. Life had not been kind to me. In 1991, my sister Sara Jo died at the age of 49 years old of lymphoma. In 1992, my husband decided that he didn’t want to be married anymore and he didn’t want to be a father anymore either. In 1993, my mother died of spinal cord cancer. In 1994, I lost my job as a legal review specialist at a mortgage company.

I can still remember the sickening feeling in my stomach when I was presented with the white envelope in which my one month severance pay was enclosed. I can still remember sitting at my cubicle staring at my name plaque and all my awards for being a top legal reviewer. Scattered among my awards was my little son’s photo and my mother’s funeral notice upon which Psalm 46 was printed. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fail into the heart of the sea. . .” Each morning those words got me through the pain of loss and the challenges of the day.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea. Those words rung in my ears and mocked me. My earth had given way and my mountains had fallen into the heart of the sea. I couldn’t even cry. I sat stunned. I had lost my precious sister Sara Jo. My husband whom I loved dearly had abandoned me and our baby son without even a glance backward. I had lost my beloved mother. And now, I had lost my job upon which I depended for support of my son and me.

I remember wondering how I was going to survive. I remember getting angry at God. I remember begging God to help me. I was lost in the dark. How much more could I take? How much more could I lose?

Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10). That verse struck me in the dead of night along with the smothering gloom of anxiety.

Be still. Be still, Be still. I decided to do just that. I took a deep breath and decided to just be still.

The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress (Psalm 46:11).

Anxiety ate away at me, but I decided to just keep moving forward. I committed this psalm to my heart and prayed it continuously. God promised me that he was an ever-present help in trouble and told me not to fear. I had to trust Him. I just had to. He was all I had left to carry me through the darkness to the light on the other side of the abyss my life had fallen into.

So, in the summer of 1994, I drove through Texas from Houston to a beautiful little town called Glen Rose. My son loved dinosaurs. I had found out about the Dinosaur Valley State Park at Glen Rose. My son was overjoyed about going to a place that had actual dinosaur prints in the earth. He loved cowboys, so I bought him a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. His little face lit up as he eyed all the ranches along the way and saw actual cowboys riding horses. The Texas countryside sparkled like a beautiful comforting paradise to both our souls. That long drive was a balm to our spirits. It lifted us up from the darkness.

In Snook, Texas, I stopped at a little market and bought a two-dollar lottery ticket and won 500 dollars. The cashier gave me the money on the spot. I was shocked. I walked back to the truck with the cash and was speechless.

That has been twenty-six years ago this month. God has brought me through those dark days and has given my life light, purpose and joy. In Him, I place my absolute trust. He promised me that he is my refuge and strength. He was then, is now, and will forever be my refuge. He is my fortress upon whom I depend.

Remembering My Brother George Willie

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This is a sketch of my brother George Willie. I sketched this from an old photograph. He drowned at age 16 the summer before I was born. He and some friends had gone to a lake and were celebrating the end of the school year. While I never knew him, I knew the void that had been left by his absence. My mother, father, and older brother and older sisters never stopped grieving over his loss. His memory haunted that space inside their hearts. I always felt like a stranger on the outside looking in; all I know of him is what they told me. He was almost six feet tall, liked to joke, was good at math and wanted to join the United States Air Force after high school graduation. Sadly, those dreams never came true, his life was cut tragically short. Sixteen years is such a short, short time.

Sixty years ago today, my brother died at sixteen years old. On that sunny June day in 1960 he had no idea that he would never see the next day. Life is so very fleeting; it is so very fragile.

I know one day that I will see him, that I will see all those whom I love who have crossed over into eternity. I love my brother George Willie although I never met him. He is my brother and I feel that he is my guardian angel and that he is always with me. I look at his photograph which I keep on the shelf of remembrance in my home and I know that he is with God.

Psalm 90: 12 says, “Teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”

Number our days. Life is so short and so precious. We often get so caught up in life’s dramas that we forget that this life is not forever on this earth.

I choose to look towards eternity. I choose to look towards the hope and promise that one day I will be in the glorious presence of my Lord. I trust that it will be a homecoming, that I will meet my brother George Willie and spend eternity with all those whom I have loved.