Grandpa

There you were a constant in my life, thinking of more than yourself on more than one occasion. If it was a child you were there with open arms;, never questioning. You gave my baby brother a home without reservation .

You were always as funny as you could be with your stories of surgeries or mishaps that came to you in your like.

I remember you very quite, hardly spoke a word. But you were there readily and willing if someone needed your help.

Now your ill and it tears my heart in two. Two think of you not in my life is a pain that I don't want to feel.

My Grandma who I love and adore as if she were my mother, a link to my mother, will surely hurt as she watches the love of her life slowly leave her.
How she will endure this I do not know, Hopefully with as least pin as possible.

Please Grandpa if you leave us on this world, remember that you are loved and Yes, adored. And you will be greatly missed and thought aboout often.

You always told me you loved me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek , this I will never forget.
I wish that I could give you the strength to rejuvinate and be well again, but I can not. So my prayers are with you and my thought as well.

I wish I could be closer, to help where I can, But know that my heart and my thought s are with you always and you are loved.

They tell her nothing

"Come now sugar, take my hand, it's time to go." "You'll be fine, we're going for a little ride now". The little girl reached up and took ahold of the gray haired lady's hand. Why she wasn't sure,but she knew that she was supposed to.

They walked out into the night and she could feel a light breeze blow a strand of hair across her face. The tears that had streamed down her little face caught the strand of hair and it stuck to her cheek.

"Why was this happening did I do something wrong?'' was the question that rolled through her mind.

She felt cold and scared . She wanted to scream out, to stop this from happening but the words would not escape her lips.

"Here child put your seat belt on". She felt like it was strangling her,keeping her from escaping, keeping her from going home.

The car ride seemed to last forever. The car was quite and she could hear her own heart beating.

"Where are we going"? She asked herself, not able to open her mouth to let the words out. But no answer was given.

The car stopped and all she could see was the outside of a brick building and some lights that shone in the windows.

"What is this place?" "Why am I here"? "Where is my mommy"?

"Come child ," again she felt compelled to take the gray haired ladies hand. Up the stairs, through the door.

"Come child" again the gray haired lady said as she led the little girl up the stairs.
"Put this on" she said.
"Climb on up in this bed and go to sleep now", "Goodnight"....

"What is this place"? "Why am I here?" "Where is my mommy"?
"Why is this happening, did I do something wrong"?

As she drifted off to sleep in her tear soaked pillow.

I just wanted to be a writer

When I was a child and going to school the two subjects that scared me the most were Math and Reading, or more precisely English. I fumbled through those subjects like walking through a riverbed in a rushing stream, with great difficulty. I never thought that I would catch on. But yet when I became a young adult I wanted to be a writer. Iwanted to be able to put words on paper and have those who read them,be able to visualize what I wrote. To be able to build a story and have it unfold in the readers mind and make sense. Maybe even be able to write something that might actually help them in some way. But first I had to learn how to spell and use words correctly. I had a English class in 8Th grade and the teachers name was Mr. Sullivan. He was a tall, silver haired man with a small moustache. H reminded me of a British professor. Not because of the way he spoke but because of the bow tie that he wore. A little red bow tie. Anyway I had a good feeling about this class and I was determined to learn anything and everything I could that would help me to become a great writer. Weather or not that ever happened is a whole other story. Mr. Sullivan would start every Monday morning off by handing out a list of vocabulary words. He told us as he was handing these out,that we had to learn how to spell these words and look them up in the dictionary, write the words and their meanings down on paper five times each. Then we would have a spelling test on those words on Thursday. Then on Friday we were to write a story using these words in there proper form. I think that assignment was the greatest and most beneficial I have ever come across. I not only learned how to spell hundreds of words, I also learned what they meant and how to use them. Thanks to Mr. Sullivan I was on my way to being a writer and broadening my vocabulary ten fold. Kudos to you Mr. Sullivan for caring enough to make us work for our creativity.