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Stories from the other side


Pam McCagh

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The Roadside Wait

              Looking up and down the road and waiting I know she will be here soon.  She always comes.  I leaned back on the grass verge looking down the Main Road. Searching for that little blue car, tapping my toes on the grass, and remembering.

 Remembering the swing that my mother tried to make for me.  I remember begging her to make me a swing.  Tomorrow, she said it was always tomorrow. Then one-day mother came home with a piece of wood tucked under her arm and a huge, big, smile on the face.

“I have it”, she said. I run towards her trying to get the piece of wood from underneath her arm.  She finally gave in with a smile.  “Get the rope from out of the garage, just underneath the bench.  Do you remember?” “Yes” mother I said. With a deep voice, she took the groceries and put them on the kitchen top.

“Are you coming?” I shouted three or four times.  “Yes dear, I am coming.”

Coming down the back stairs into the garden, holding a huge knife in her hand. Pointing it towards me laughing, we measured two pieces of rope out together, contradicting each other with a laugh.

 Then mother went into the shed to get the drill.  Putting two holes is in each side of the wood, placing the drill safely back onto the table. Now this is the part that is not going to be easy.  She tried to push the rope through the holes. I said “Why don’t we make the holes bigger?”  “We cannot do that, the rope will just pull back through. ”What if we make the knots bigger?”  She smiled at me.  “You are clever” she said.  We made them just a fraction larger and the rope went through perfectly.  Mother tied a huge big knot in the end of the rope.

 “Now”, she said, looking up towards the tree. The next part was to get the rope up and over one of the branches.  “I am going to climb up,” she said, “do you think you can throw the rope up when I am up there?”

“I think so.”  I told her.  She went to get the ladder from the garage, leaning it towards the tree making sure it was quite safe she started to climb up; she took hold of one of the large branches and shouted “Can you throw up the rope now?”With both ends of the rope in my hands, trying to figure out how I would get the rope up to mother.  Then all of a sudden, I heard a crash and mother was sitting by the side of me.  “Why didn’t you wait for me to throw the rope up?” I said to mother with a laugh. She sat there rubbing her knee.

 I tried to help her to stand up.  Then I realised she was in pain. I ran indoors and phoned for an ambulance. When the ambulance man arrived, he asked how mother had hurt her knee.  I looked up towards the big branch, “Did you climb up there?” one of the men asked mother.  “Yes,” she said, “But I did have a ladder.”

They both smiled at each other and lifted mother into the ambulance.  We never forgot that day, in fact, one of the ambulance man lived just a few doors away and volunteered to put the swing up for mother.

I used to laugh and asked mother “Do you remember that day when you tried to put the swing up for me?”  My father left us when I was only seven years old.  He went out to buy some cigarettes and never came back.

Mother never said a wrong word against him. It was always a struggle for mother to pay the bills, and there was never enough money.  I told her I was going to get a paper round. No, she said, we can manage.  But we could not.  So after a few weeks of convincing mother let me do the paper round.

 I went around the corner shop and collected the bag full of newspapers - it was so heavy. I had to take some of the papers out when I passed my home and leave them there to pick up later.

It was not much money, but it did help with the food bill.  I had just 10 more papers to deliver that day.  I looked across the road and before I knew what was happening a car was in front of me.  I knew it could not stop.

 Too late, the only thing I thought about was the newspapers getting dirty, as it had just started to rain. I don’t remember much after that, things always seem to be getting in my way.  Nothing I could really put my finger on, I was always trying to get back to mother, but I could not find the street. 

Then one day I found myself sitting on the roadside still with the papers in my bag.  I heard a noise behind me.  I looked around on mother was sitting there crying.  I walked up to her and put my arms around her shoulders, giving her a huge big kiss on the side of the cheek.

 But she just sat there. I pulled away, thinking, why does mother not know that I am here? Every day she would her sit there and cry looking up and down the road for me...  She was always sad, and looked very tired.

 Every day I wished that she could feel my arms around her telling her how much I loved her.   But most of all telling her I was okay.  I do not understand by the word okay.  But I know that I did not feel any more pain and I was not sad.

 Once mother had gone from the roadside.  I seemed to just float along.  I seemed to be always going somewhere that would make me feel happy.  There were always something to do.   I knew that at a certain time I would find myself back on the roadside.  I remember asking someone a long time ago.  Why do I always find myself back at the roadside?  She said that is where your last memory was.

 But most of all that is where your mother is waiting for you and cannot let go of the memory. “She is so lonely”, I said, “I feel so sad when I see her walking away.”  Then she told me that I would not be here much longer.  I would have to move on,

I told the woman I did not want to go without mother.  “Then you must help her” the woman said.  “How?” I asked.  “The swing”, she said, “you must go back to the swing.”  “I have tried, I have tried so many times to go to my home but I cannot get there.”

I felt the woman coming closer to me.  I started to feel funny inside.  You see I still believed I had a body, I still believed I was carrying the bag of newspapers.  Now the woman was telling me to put the newspaper bag on the floor and to remember the swing.  She told me to remember my Mother trying to get the rope through the holes.  As I remembered I started to laugh, and the next thing I knew I was on the swing, and the swing was going backwards and forwards.  I looked up mother was standing there.

I stopped the swing and walked across reaching out to hold her hand.  She never felt me.  I tried to pull her towards swing but I could not move her. She looked across to the swing and it was standing still.  I walked back towards the swing and started to swing it.

Mother watched as the swing started to move backwards and forwards. A smile came on mothers face “Is that you?” she called out.  I stopped the swing from swinging.  Once again, I looked back to where mother was standing. I sat on the swing and the swing started to move.  I watched her place her hands towards her mouth and cry out.  Please just one more time.  This time I climbed high into the sky pushing myself forward and backwards.  My mother fell to the floor, and cried. I stopped the swing and run to where mother was sitting.  I placed my arms around my mother and held her tightly.  This time I believe my mother could feel me.  She called out my name, time and time again.

Then I heard the woman telling me that it was time to let go.  I don’t know why and I don't know how but I knew my mother was going to be okay. I watched her shake, the dirt from the bottom of her coat.  I watched her walk towards the swing sitting there and start to swing.  I watched my mother pushing the swing back and forwards as high has she possibly could and then for the first time I heard my mother laughed again. Someone called me.

“I am coming!” I shouted, “I am coming!” I moved forward to take hold of her hand and everything stood still. It felt so good.  I will never have to wait again. On a long and lonely roadside. I took a deep sigh and walked away.   Copy Right, By Pam McCagh

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None fiction. This is Just one of their stories.

I listened to the dead they.' tell me their stories,about their life, death, and the message that they have come back to give.

  this little person as come back to tell the people that have lost loved ones,' by road accidents,

that they are okay. they are worried about the ones that are left behind. this person is mother did not want  to carry on with life.

   the child came back,to help  the mother to let go of the memory, and to live life,

the story in which this book is in one one of the top in America, Davies 38 different stories from all types of people from all over the world in this particular book

called. The Shadow children.

,that is only one of  the stories being told by these people.  You can find a lot of them on my website www.pamfromengland.com.

that is also quite a few stories on their.  While I hope you enjoy them, Regards Pam

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To Pam

 

I am writing this letter, hoping that you will receive it.  You have given me a new life to look forward to. 

You helped me come to terms with losing my daughter.  I am so grateful for that. 

You told me that by holding on too tightly I was not learning to let go.  It did take a long time to let my little girl go.

You said take your time.  It is strange that I feel my little girl around me more now than I ever did holding on to her. 

I have started to enjoy her company when I get up in the morning.  I call out good morning. 

I look out of the window and I talked to my daughter telling her a new day has begun for both of us.  That one day, we will all be together again and to enjoy the time that we have now.  You taught me that.

My life has changed now and every day I look forward to a new beginning.  Thank you with all my heart.  My brother also says thank you because he says I am a different person now.  He knows that I can now cope with my life.  Love to you and your family

You are always in my heart

Betty and Clive----England

 

 To My New friend Pam

I am blessed.  In many ways, in my lonely life, that comes with many problems. 

God holds on to me tightly and keeps me strong.

 Thank you precious lady, for making me happy.

 

 

Best Regards Karen UK

 

 

 

 

There were lots more I wanted to ask him.  I do appreciate all that you told me.  I am a very happy mother today.

 

 

I cried with happiness.  My son was just much too good for this world and much too special.

 

 

I was so very happy with everything that you told me.

  Thank you so very much for putting my son and I together, with your very special gift.

 

Thank You

 

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My Guide Comments

Do we go to somewhere that we think we should go? No.’’ No I say unto thee,’’we go to a place where we will relive memories our life until our memories exist no more. It is not complicated,’’ only when one makes it so. 

We can return when we are called upon,’’ with no consequences of life and death. A spec of memory returns, to comfort’ and to confirm the meaning of death and all it has foretold. 

As part of the souls, that never leaves its place of rebirth,’’ only part of the whole of time and all its existence of thing that we can only dream of.

 But it is within a time frame of life that one cannot exist without the other.  This and only this is time of all recognition.

Do we exist for existence only, or do we exist completion of time itself.  Do our lives travel from time to time? 

Or is it in existence that we know of.  Together thoughts of life and all it holds to bring life and death into one place again.

 to accept the acceptable of all life’s consequences.  Then and only then, can we go forward into time itself. 

You once asked me,’’ when does life begin?  Is it when we take our first breath.’’ but that is not so.’’ life’ begins with one single memory.   

 Remember when I tell thee,’’ that our memories go forth with great understanding of life and all it foretold.  Once again we are in circumstances beyond our control,’’ for it is with great care and understanding that we hold both.’’ life and death with hope.

Pam McCagh Author. 

 

 

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Threads merged

This seems like something that might be better suited to a blog than a thread as there's not a lot for anyone to discuss.

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WHO WILL TELL MY WIFE?

 

I lay here thinking, who will tell my wife I won’t be coming home?  Who will tell her how much I love her?  I will never see my unborn child.  I am starting to lose my eyesight.  It must be around two o’clock.  The sun is still high in the sky.  I turn my head around and I can see Smithy.  He’s not moving.  I call his name and he still does not answer.  God, what’s happening?  I turn around the other way.  I can see James - we all call him Jimmy. He does not like James.  We used to laugh about it when things were different.

I am getting colder now. I shout, “Where’s the Medic?”  I can still hear Jimmy breathing.  Where’s that medic?  I no longer feel my legs.  I listen again to the sound of gunshots and I can still hear the blokes fighting.  I don’t think they are far away but it could be miles.  Can’t anyone find us?  Jimmy needs help now!  Jimmy’s the youngest one in our platoon.  We used to joke with him, calling him our baby boy.  We should have told him how much we loved and respected him.  Now it may be too late.  I call Jimmy again but still no answer.

It rained last night.  We’re lying in a puddle of mud.  My mind is drifting now, remembering my wife Patsy.  Everyone has a memory of something; mine was when Patsy used to bake. I used to watch those programs where the women used to get flour all over their hair and nose.  Patsy would beat that.  She would get the flour all over the kitchen walls and the floor.  That’s my memory of my Patsy.

I received a letter two weeks ago to say I’m going to be a Daddy.  I was so proud of her.  Oh God, who is going to tell her?  I can hear someone shouting in the background.  I try to lift my hand up, but I can’t.  My memories go back again to Patsy.   Where is she now?  And what is she doing?  I put a picture of her in my mind, oh God, she’s so beautiful.  

Before I joined the army, we would go to the pictures every Friday night, and on Saturday, we would help her Mum and Dad.  Her dad had been very sick so I would help with the heavy jobs around the farm.  The old man had a few cows, three maybe, a couple of sheep and a few chooks, and an old goat that must be dead by now.  How long is it now, two years since I joined up?

I hear Jimmy making a noise with his hand.  He’s trying to reach mine but he cant reach.  I can see a stick.  If I can reach it I can give it to Jimmy to hold so he doesn’t feel so lonely.  Ive nearly got it now.  I’m holding on tight to it.  I reach out towards Jimmy.  I can feel him holding on to the stick.  Oh God, what’s happening?  He’s shaking so bloody hard.  I cant hold on any longer.  I try to call out to him but my voice doesn’t come through.  I try to lift my fingers so he knows I’m OK.  I can see him looking towards me but now he’s just staring.  I shout but no words come out.  Where’s that bloody Medic?  I can feel myself drifting into darkness.

I'm at home again with my brother and sister.  I can hear the kettle boiling.  I shout to my mother, “The kettle’s boiling Mum!”  She calls back, “Can you turn it off?  I’m just hanging the washing out.”  It’s been a long day for me.  I’ve been working in the fields logging, and there is no rest between times of felling.  I look at my hands and there are blisters on them from cutting the timber.  I rub a bit of goose fat on.  It smarts for a moment and then it feels good.

I call out to Mum, “Will Dad be home tonight?”  She replies, “No Son, he’s thirty miles away.  I don’t expect him for a few days yet.”  My friend Bobby calls, “Coming for a ride, Pete?”  I quickly jump in beside him and off we go to the old wood stock where I met my beautiful Patsy.  We were married within that year and then the bad news came of the war. Six months later I was called up.

I feel myself back in the fields with my mates and reality came flooding back.

I look across but Jimmy’s still starring at me.  I think he’s gone.  Where’s the bloody medic?  I stand up and look down and there is the three of us; so still.  Someone tugs at my arm and says “Come on, mate.  Let’s go.”

 

 

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THE WINDOW

 

Here I am sitting in my chair, and as usual, no one takes any notice.  I scream out all the time because that is the only way I can communicate and to let people know I am still here.  I have been in a wheelchair most of my life.  Where did it begin?  I don’t remember.

My body aches all the time but no one listens.  They think because I can’t talk, I dont know whats going on.  If they only knew.  Every day of my life its been the same.  Someone gets me out of the bed and dumps me in a bath of water.  Sometimes it’s nice and warm but most times its cold.  I cant tell these people.  They think it’s acceptable to just do what they think is right, and they towel dry me with no dignity.  They dress me with much the same attitude.

I have learnt to blank life out, but I keep on making as much noise as I can because I am afraid if I stop, people will forget Im alive.  Mum called in today as she does every day.  She holds me and treats me like a human being and I know how she yearns for me to put my arms around her and tell her how much I love her.

Mum did not want to leave me here, but she is getting older now and she is very small and can no longer lift me in and out of the bath or the bed.  She stays with me most of the day and it’s funny, but she is like me.  Nobody sees her anymore; she just blends into the background.  Like me, she is like clockwork.  She comes every day at quarter past ten and leaves at quarter past three.  She likes to get home before it gets dark.

She is getting ready to leave now.  Oh, how I would like to tell her how much I love her and how much I appreciate her for always being there for me!  When my father found out that I was brain damaged and would never walk he walked out and never came back.  It’s always been mum and me.  I sit here and watch her quietly walk away, unnoticed.

Ive wet myself again.  I have a nappy on but it soon gets full up.  I will have to wait until someone remembers I’m here and takes me for my evening bath and then bed.  Its morning again and the nurse has not yet come in.  I’m glad that one morning out of many is different.  I just lay there enjoying the extra time in bed.

A knock comes on my door and a man walks in.  He looks very nice but not very old.  I think straight away, will he notice me?  He looks at my chart at the end of my bed, smiles and comes towards me.  He says, “Did you have a good night’s sleep Tommy?”

I thought I must be dreaming so I screamed out making all these strange noises, trying to tell him, at last someone is taking notice.  He grabs for my hand that I am waving about like a frigging lunatic and smiles at me again and says, “We will have you out of this bed in ten minutes, washed and ready for breakfast.”

I could not believe my ears and, true to his word, I was up, dressed and sitting at the table with other people waiting for my breakfast.  I sat patiently waiting; everyone seemed to be talking at the same time.  I tried to listen to what was going on.  I kept hearing the name, James, the new Superintendent.  I wondered if that was the same person that came into my bedroom.  Breakfast came and went and I kept very quiet.  I did not want to miss anything or any conversation.

          I felt someone pull my chair out and touch my head.  “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”  I did not know what to say.  It was such a surprise.  My arms and legs started to wave around and I felt like a bloody idiot.  He told me his name was James as he wheeled my chair to the window and said, “I hope you like that view Tommy.”

James left me by the window and for the first time I got to look out at the world.  I prayed nobody would wheel me away.  Everyone used to leave me to look at a wall before but today was different.  I watched people walking around; there was also a dog in the grounds and people eating lunch and talking to each other.  What a wonderful world, I thought, please don’t shut me off again.

James came and got me and touched my head again with a very loving hand.  He said “Are you ready for lunch Tommy?”  I got so excited that my hands and legs started to wave again.  I felt like a bloody idiot.  James didn’t seem to mind.  Lunch came and went.  I waited and waited and once again I felt my chair being turned around and there was James.

This time he bent down in front of me and said, “How would you like to go for a stroll with me?”  And off we went.  My bloody arms went again, waving like an idiot.  He turned my chair around and we both went together out into the corridor.  I was so proud of James.  We left the long corridor and went out into the garden.

          James turned me around and he sat on the bench beside me.  He said to me, “Have you wondered why your Mother hasn’t been here for the last two days?”  I thought, bloody hell I forgot about Mum with all the excitement.  What will she think of me, and where is she? Just at that moment, I had a real bad feeling.  I had been so preoccupied with what was going on, I was ashamed to say, I forgot about Mum.Where is she?  I wanted to shout, but only a scream came out. 

James said, “Your mother has not been very well.  She had to go into hospital, but she’s okay.”  He seemed to know what I was thinking.  He said, “Do you want me to take you to see her?”  I could not believe what I was hearing.  Why had it taken so long for a kind person to understand that although we cannot communicate, we have feelings.  These feelings turn into a hatred of life itself and you seem to get lost into nothing; you feel nothing, you hear nothing, you are nothing.

Thanks to James life has just begun.  He asked me, “Would you like to go tomorrow?”  It was as though he knew what I was thinking.  I was not screaming anymore and my arms were no longer waving around.  We just sat there together looking at the flowers and the trees and watching people.  I had not known such peace for a long time.

Tomorrow I would see my mother and what else would tomorrow bring?  I have never had tomorrows before; Ive always lived for today.  James has made me think of the future and yes, I have a voice for a small time.  Long enough to make people aware that if you see people like me in the streets or in private hospitals, please don’t think we are idiots.  We are aware of everything around us; we just cannot communicate.  It is not such a wonderful place that people like me find themselves living in.  It can be a living hell.  I’m telling you this story from the other side.  I know a few of you will understand about transforming thoughts from one entity to another.  Both entities have to be compatible and understanding.

I thank this person for giving me the opportunity of telling my story, which has not yet finished.  I am glad to say James took me to see Mother the following day and she was so pleased to see me.  I did not wave my arms around; only once to try to reach her hand .  I need not have worried.  James understood what I was trying to say.  He told Mum, “Tom has been excited all night and looking forward to seeing you.”  Mum smiled.  He sat down beside her bed and told her all about our venture into the garden.  She looked over and smiled at me.  James touched Mum’s hand with so much kindness and then told her, “Please don’t worry about Tommy.  I will always look after him.”

He did, and Mum passed away two months later.  I was so sorry to see her go and I miss her so, but James said that life must go on, and it did.  Two years later, James got me into a commission house.  A house where other people like me stayed; but I am also glad to say, so did James.  I lived for another four years after that and passed away on August 31.

James will always be with me and I miss him very much.  But I also know while James is there, there’s hope for other people like myself.  I end this story with hope, that we all have a James somewhere in the future.  God bless them all.

By Pam mcCagh copy writes

©

 

 

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THE KEY

 

Do you remember dear?  Now, when was that?  Let me think.  It was about the time our Joe was born.  Things were hard for young people then.  We didn’t seem to mind though, did we dear?  Now let me see.  Yes, we had not long moved in with your mother. 

Do you remember dear?  I seem to recall we shared a bedroom with your brother.  Yes, I remember it well.  There was no door, just a curtain between us.  There were many nights we would giggle under the blankets. Do you remember dear?  Well, that was about the same time that your sister married that man.  Now, what was his name again?  Oh yes.

Do you remember dear?  It was the biggest surprise we ever had.  The rent man came to see us that morning and said he had just been handed a key to give us.  Do you remember dear?  Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather when he handed me the key.  Mother said we were the luckiest people she had ever known.  I said, get away, we saved his mother from the fire when no one else would go in.  I still have the scars to prove it.

Do you remember dear?  Now let me see, he said the house was ours until we no longer needed it.  When you came home from the shoe factory you cried so much I had to take you for a walk.  We were so excited, weren’t we dear? Not long after that, our Crissy was born.  What a commotion!  Well dear, we've had a lot to be grateful for. We spent all our lives in this house watching the children grow up. What did you say dear?  Yes, I am coming.

I lay down beside my wife.  I gently wrapped the blanket around her and closed my eyes.  She's been gone now for two days but I could not let her go without me.  You see, I've looked after her all my life.  Where would I go without my Cassy? 

God bless us both.

By Pam McCagh ©

 

 

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