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All Thats Left
All Thats Left
All Thats Left
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All Thats Left

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they say life's a journey, that we all go through hardship and heartache, love and laughter, missteps and misfortune, that we all learn along the way. i wrote this book about one such journey i took along with my mother and two brothers in a very small house in Virginia. A journey i will carry with me for the rest of my life that unfortunately would end in overwhelming tragedy and change a son from the man he used to be...to the man he never wanted to be.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherDAVID WILSON
Release dateNov 13, 2016
ISBN9781540190406
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    Book preview

    All Thats Left - DAVID WILSON

    DAVID WILSON

    Text And Images Copyright (C) 2016 David Wilson

    This Book Is Dedicated To The One Person Who Brought So

    Much Joy Into My Life By Fil ing It With The Love And

    Laughter That Only She Could Give. The One Person I Loved

    More Than Anything In The World.....My Mother.

    I Will Always Love You Momma.

    They say life’s a journey, that we al go through hardship and

    heartache, love and laughter, missteps and misfortune, that

    we all learn from our mistakes along the way. I wrote this book

    about one such journey i took along with my Mother and two

    Brothers in a very smal house in Virginia. A journey i wil carry

    with me for the rest of my life that unfortunately, would end in

    overwhelming tragedy and change a son from the man he

    used to be......to the man he never wanted to be.

    CHAPTER 1

    Chapter 2

    TRAVELING MOMMA

    Chapter 3

    Rushing Mom To The Hospital

    CHAPTER 4

    Mom’s Parlor

    ––––––––

    Chapter 5

    Mom’s Smoking

    Chapter 6

    The Days After

    Chapter 7

    Yard Sale Momma

    Chapter 8

    Helping Mom

    Chapter 9

    Mom’s Hospital Visit

    Chapter 10

    Back To The Hospital

    Chapter 11

    Making The Most Of It

    Chapter 12

    Mom’s Extended Visit

    Chapter 13

    Taking A Turn

    Chapter 14

    A Tearful Goodbye

    Chapter 15

    The Loneliest Day

    About The Author

    They say life’s a journey, that we all go through hardship and heartache, love and laughter, missteps and misfortune, that we all learn from our mistakes along the way. I wrote this book about one such journey i took along with my Mother and two Brothers in a very small house in Virginia. A journey i will carry with me for the rest of my life that unfortunately, would end in overwhelming tragedy and change a son from the man he used to be.....to the man he never wanted to be.

    Chapter 1

    Life in our little part of the world was a very peaceful and quiet life, in fact it was so peaceful and quiet, you could hear what seemed like every species of bird there were and whatever else that wanted to chirp in.

    Houses there ranged from average to large and everyone knew just about everyone there. My mother, myself, and my two brothers all shared a very small house, and we loved it, especially my mother.

    She always called it her little cottage. From a big back yard with towering oak trees, to a small, cozy front yard with plenty of bright colorful flowers, it seemed like the perfect place to live, and in her opinion, it was. She had been there for most of her life and it just happened to be right next door to her childhood home.

    Her mother and father as well as a brother had all passed away some years before, but she still had three brothers and a sister

    ––––––––

    left. She had always tried to keep in touch with them as best she could, especially her sister.

    They were always incredibly close. Whenever she was in the hospital due to her c.o.p.d. flaring up, her sister would always call her to see how she was doing. When they were on the phone, they seemed to talk forever about everything, especially their brothers. I remember sitting by her hospital bed and could never help but hear their conversations.

    Mom would always make the funniest faces and remarks whenever the subject of their brothers came up, saying things like "i don’t know about them boys. All the while nodding her head in slight disapproval while waving her hands around. To her, it was all in good fun though.

    She may have been seventy one, but sometimes she talked like she was still in her twenties, something i had always loved about her. In a way, i think it was sort of a release for my mother, something to help take her mind off of her illness.

    I had always admired and respected her for that, because although she may have been sick physically, she would always try to find a way to keep her mind sharp. By poking fun at the people she loved the most, i think she found a way to do that.

    If there was one thing to say about her, it was the fact that no matter how bad things got, she would always try to take them in stride, sometimes even managing to put on a smile and joke about them.

    I also knew though, that sometimes she would hide her true feelings and never say a word to any of us about them. I remember when she would be lying on her couch telling me

    ––––––––

    everything was fine, but in knowing her like i did, i knew she was anything but.

    The fact that she worried about everything had always caused me to worry about her. She had been through so much heartache and pain in her life that it’s a wonder she found a way to cope at all, and now with her about to lose her home, i couldn’t help but think that it was eating her alive.

    Although she was doing her best just to get buy, and seemed to be doing okay with all things considering, i could never help but wonder why so many bad things had happened to her over the course of her life.

    From her having a major heart attack and nearly losing her life in 2012, to her losing my father to terminal lung cancer in 2007, to being told that she was going to lose the only home she ever wanted to know because the owner had decided to sell.

    I knew she couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen to her when she had to move, especially with her c.o.p.d. getting worse and not having any place to go.

    That house had been her quiet little corner of the world for nearly thirty six years, and the thought of having to pick up and leave everything behind she loved, everything she worked so hard for, was at times, overwhelming.

    The memories it held, especially of being there with my father, were irreplaceable. Although that little house needed work due to the ravages of time and unbelievable flooding, it was still her home. I remember sometimes i would peer around the corner of

    ––––––––

    our living room just to see how she was doing, only to find her lying on her couch staring at the floor as if her entire world were slowly closing in on her.

    Somehow though, through all that, she always seemed to find a way through it. If there was one thing to say about her, it would be that she was tough and determined, to say the least.

    When she was having her good days, she would be on her couch laughing and carrying on, the same couch that had been her bed since 2012 when we nearly lost her.

    She spent the majority of her time there watching t.v. and trying her best to fend off my brother’s sofa sized dog, which seemed like could only be done by throwing cookies to her, or sometimes, as in mom’s case, at her. They couldn’t be just any old cookies though, they had to be chocolate chip cookies.

    Somehow, that dog seemed to know the difference.

    Even though there were times when that overgrown ox would stare her down and whine at her for a treat, and drive her crazy in the process, she still loved that dog. To this day i can still see her with her t.v. remote in one hand trying to flip channels, all the while tossing cookies with the other.

    Sometimes when t.v. had become slightly boring though, and she wasn’t being bullied by that four legged cookie munching bulldozer, i would see her looking out the window.

    I remember when she would ask me to open the shade so she could see what was going on outside, especially in her flower garden. The roses she loved so much were planted right in front

    ––––––––

    of that window, and were always the first thing that caught her eye.

    When she was in better health, she used to stay outside and take care of those roses as if they were one of her own children.

    It literally seemed like she would meticulously check each and every one, just to make sure the insects weren’t eating them.

    I remember when she would come outside with her garden gloves on seemingly ready to take on anything mother nature could throw at her, as if to say she wasn’t going to stand by and let anything happen to her beloved roses, especially be eaten by some funky bug.

    While they had always been her favorite, she seemed to take to them even more so after my father passed away. I think that by putting her mind on her flowers, it somehow gave her a release from the pain she felt everyday from losing him.

    While i was proud of her for carrying on the way she did, at the same time i could never help but feel sorry for her, because they were married for forty five years when she lost him, and i know it literally took it’s toll on her.

    Often times when she was inside the house, i would find her sitting at her little table just staring into space, wondering what she was thinking about. The sad look on her face though, literally said it all. A year after my father had passed away, i remember coming home to find her sitting at that same table crying, saying, today’s our anniversary.....and he’s not here.

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    All i could manage to say was "i know mom..... I know.’’ I hadn’t seen her in that much pain since she lost my father. She was so heartbroken that day, she didn’t even bother with getting dressed. That turned out be one of the worst days of my life, to have to see my mother cry like that and not be able to do anything about it.

    I knew there wouldn’t be a day that went by when she wasn’t going to be thinking of him, especially when their anniversary would come by.

    The fact that she missed him so much and had to go on without him made it anything but easy for her and i knew that nothing in this world was going to take her pain away, at least not for a very long time.

    While she would have numerous days when she would be sitting and thinking about the life she had with my father, she would also sit and think about the life she now had to live, the one without my father. If it was one thing my father would want though, it was for her to carry on with her life, to carry on for him.

    Although he knew she would take it hard, that her life would be a daily struggle without him, he also knew how resilient she could be. I think he knew that when it came to push comes to shove, she could push or shove a mountain if she absolutely had to.

    While sometimes the mountain seemed to push and shove her, she always did her best to deal with it, never letting her emotions get in the way.

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    That’s the thing i loved most about her, that although life could inflict enormous hardship on her and try it’s best to run her down, she would never give up, no matter what. It’s nothing short of miraculous that although she had been put through so much in her life, that she was still able to deal with it the way she did. Although it would sometimes get the better of her, she would never quit.

    I literally don’t think she even knew the meaning of the word.

    Although life at that little house would never be the same without my father, we did manage to carry on, although it had never been easy, especially for her. It was something that for the longest time, would prove hard to get used to.

    Sitting here now and looking back, i remember how each and every morning he would drink his usual morning cup of coffee, then head out the door with his hedge clippers in hand ready to chop away at his favorite shrub.

    Mom would say, there he goes again, that poor hedge doesn’t stand a chance with him. I always loved how she would tease him about our hedge row and how he loved to constantly trim it.

    I remember once someone had actually stopped by to give him a framed certificate that said winner for Best Looking Hedge in the county. To say my father was proud would have been an understatement.

    I remember him placing it on the wall behind the couch so everyone could see it hanging over his head when he sat down.

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    I remember the gentleman that presented it to him saying that everyday he would drive by and see him out there trimming to what seemed like sheer perfection, and how he couldn’t resist on giving him something to show for his hard work.

    Although mom loved to tease him once in awhile about cutting it so much, she also couldn’t have been more proud of him, saying that not everyone got a diploma for hedge trimming.

    After he passed, i would often see her standing in front of it with tears welling up in her eyes remembering back to the day when he stood in that very same spot and proudly hung it on the wall saying, see that miss wilson, i’ve got a diploma!

    Although it was going to be incredibly hard for her, at least with my brother’s and i being there, we would do our best to see her through it. While we knew that with each passing day, the pain of losing him would gradually subside, there would never be a day when any of us would ever forget what happened to him.

    Chapter 2

    TRAVELING MOMMA

    When mom had her better days, one of the few activities that would take her mind off of things, was to travel to the supermarket. I remember she would be sitting on her couch and she would say, go in the kitchen and see what we need.

    After she had made her list, it was out the door we would go.

    Our house had three small steps in front, and i remember she would always stop and stare at them, hesitating as if she were thinking back to a time when those same steps weren’t a problem for her. Although i had built her a small ramp to use, she would always insist on coming down them, no matter what i said.

    I remember when she did come down them though, that it was completely sideways, one step at the time, all the while gripping her handrail as tightly as she could while i held onto her. I think that given the fact that she had stage three c.o.p.d., and could

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    barely walk anymore, she was still determined to live her life on her own terms, no matter what. Though i was heartbroken at times because of the way she had to struggle, i was also very proud of her. It seemed that she wasn’t going to let anything slow her down, let alone stop her, especially when it came time to go to the store.

    Once

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