My life Story- Memories of Grace Part of the First Chapter : My father died of a massive heart attack in my mother’s arms eight days before my fifth birthday. He had finished off a pound of blue cheese and Saltine crackers about an hour before complaining of chest pains while watching the “Late Night Show” with Jack Parr. He was only 44 years old. His last words he whispered to my mother were, “It’s too late now, Gladys,” because she had been detached and distant to him for the year past. I heard my mother sob and scream as I watched silently through the dimly lit room and saw as she held and rocked my father’s quiet still body next to hers. It made me feel good to see them together. I glanced back to my sister Mary who was two years old and sleeping soundly in her own bed next to mine. Suddenly cold in the humid hot Florida night, I turned and slipped silently into bed next to her. This was one of three memories about my father. The second was at three years old I stalwartly hurled a blunt edged butter knife at my parents who were arguing again at the dinner table. I was strong for a three year old girl because the blunt butter blade hit my father squarely in the forehead and blood instantly spilled down his face. My parents were suddenly quiet for a few seconds and I had put an end to their argument, as least for the time being. The third memory of my father was when he was smoking a filter less menthol “Kool” cigarette while pushing me in a stroller. He had paused to gaze at the beautiful Florida sunny day. A cloud of pretty blue smoke circled around to my nose and drew me to turn around and look up at him. I remember his handsome smiling face, green eyes and his long lanky legs. I wanted so much to be held by him. In later years when I told my mother this memory she said my father was afraid to hold me because he thought I would break. This year, 2012, I’ve begun my memoirs and it feels good to write it all down. I think it’s time I told my story. I dedicate this to Gladys, my beloved mother, who passed on November 19, 2010 whom I am forever grateful for saving my life when I needed help the most and for being my best friend. And I thank God for David. My husband of almost 29 years who has taught me the art of patience, and to slow down, not worry and enjoy the journey. It was getting towards twilight and a slender girl about nine years old sat on the top wooden step of a rustic cottage painted forest green. The little tomboy loved the Carolina woods in the summer and enjoyed playing with ant hills, chasing butterflies and dragonflies while she was forever looking for the elusive green garden snakes which hid in the tall grasses. She listened for chirping crickets gathering for their nightly karaoke. The towering shadows of the Carolina pines stretched out shadowy branches to embrace her mother’s log cabin nestled deep in the South Carolina woods. The girl’s pretty face and blonde hair, smudged by mud and dirt, was outlined by a page boy haircut with straight cut bangs. She was sitting only a few inches from a multicolored garden spider to watch it weave its web. When her shallow breath slightly disturbed the spider, its web swayed and shifted as if captured by a gentle breeze. Moving closer to its silky long drag line when spilled from its bulging abdomen she remembered a conversation she had with her Aunt Lessie. Lessie was a dark skinned Cherokee woman who lived in a dilapidated century old plantation home a few minutes’ walk from the girl’s house in the woods. She asked, “Lessie, are all spiders dangerous? “No, baby girl, my Indian family slept on straw mattresses and with spiders. All spiders have poison in ‘em and they use it to kill their suppa’. But you don’t need to worry none… they won’t hurt you unless you try to take hold of one. “Don’t try to capture one because it will bite you and you’d get so mad you might try to kill it. They don’t mean to bite you…they are just protecting their home and babies...like a human does. Just watch them baby girl…spiders are beautiful to watch. You can learn a lot from watching them build their web because it will teach patience and perseverance. You will learn that you will have to wait for what you want in life. The spiders don’t just construct webs, sometimes they lay down “silk drag lines” behind them when they walk to find their way back to their home.” “Are people able to make “drag lines or safety nets” to find their way back home?” the girl asked. “Yes…it’s called your “gut feeling or intuition which is that nagging voice inside your head telling you had better listen to it…no matter what,” Lessie replied. The girl stopped asking questions and began to ponder the spider. “You’re doing a great job…you’re almost finished…but keep going until you make it perfect,” she whispered to the spider. She imagined what it would be like to be a spider and said, “you are always mending and repairing your home and have to worry about it to be swept away by a simple gust of wind.” The spider heard her and stopped weaving for an instant and then became very still. Jolted out of her trance, she heard her mother’s Southern drawl as she rang a loud clanging supper bell, “Come on in y’all it’s time for supper! Fried chicken, rice, okra and collard greens…come on in Gracie, Mary, Kathy and Genie. “It’s getting dark!” The tall skinny girl dashed ahead of her three siblings and raced to their mother who wore a checkered apron at the front screen door. The skinny girl was me. When Steve Jobs was invited to speak to a room full of Stanford University graduates he gave his memorable commencement speech and he began with this…“You cant connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards so you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.” I believe him. My birth certificate name is Grace but sometimes I prefer to be called Gracie. I was born the oldest of four children, two sisters Mary and Kathy and one brother, Gene. I was born in the water sign of Pisces on March 11th in the fifties and birth year in the Chinese astrology year of the lucky “Water Dragon.” My good fortune began when given the first name of Grace. It’s a powerful and beautiful name to have throughout one’s life and people often remind me. My birth certificate states “Grace Todd Jones Thompson.”
Posted on: Sat, 22 Mar 2014 23:29:58 +0000
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