Gloria

I haven't thought about Gloria for a very long time.  That memory is locked away in the heart of a woman who used to be a twelve-year- old girl.  I found myself talking about her to my 6th & 7th graders the other day, and she will not leave my thoughts.  One of the things that the Ragged Edge authors talked about was to "bleed on the page."  To put our emotions in word form.  To scream through our words.

I was eleven and Gloria was my first babysitting assignment.  Her family had moved in to a house near ours and I had befriended her older brother Donald.  He was a fun kid to hang out with- for a three year old!  When I met his mother, she was almost embarrassed to introduce me to her infant daughter.  Gloria was very mentally and physically handicapped.  Her head seemed too big for her tiny twisted body.  When she cried, it sounded like the mew of a kitten.  Her eyes could not focus on anything and she was very floppy. 

Gloria's mother, Pat, taught me how to change her diaper, how to hold her and how to feed her.  After awhile I didn't see the handicaps she had, I just saw her.  Pat started by leaving me with Gloria for a few minutes while she went to the store.  I remember being so proud that I had been the one in charge of watching out for this precious life.  I felt I was well on my way to becoming a very responsible babysitter.

Eventually Pat was able to leave for an hour or take Donald to the doctor while I stayed with Gloria.  I recall dressing her in a tiny pink dress and carrying her out to the trees near our house and while I held her in my arms, I sang to her.  She was about nine months old that day and for the first time, her eyes focused on mine as I sang song after song to her. 

As the months went by Gloria was able to turn her head slightly when she heard my voice.  When she was a year old, she weighed eleven pounds and was working so hard to hold her head up!  I knew that she was not progressing like other babies, but she had come so far and I was so proud of her! 

I turned twelve that November and it was at that time that the doctor discovered that I had scoliosis, a curvature of the spine- and it was severe.  (over 30 degrees curvature)  I would have to wear a back brace 23 out of 24 hours a day.  It looked more like a torture device that a tool to realign my back and I remember crying all night long the day after Christmas when I wore it to bed for the first time.  I felt out of place and knew I looked like a freak.  Sixth grade is not where you want to appear different, and this contraption with a metal neck ring, one metal rod down the front, and two down the back, made me look very different. 

I knew one other person might understand being different.  After my first day back at school in January, I found myself at Pat's house, crying into Gloria's neck.  She softly cooed at me and I remember laughing at her.  I felt that I could do this brace thing as long as I had Gloria to talk to. 

That weekend, Pat and the rest of the family were sick and they had Gloria put in a respite care home so that she would be taken care of.  I couldn't wait to see her the following week.

I did see her the next week, but it was in a very small coffin in a funeral home.

For reasons unknown to the family, Gloria had died in her sleep Sunday at the respite care home. 

I never got to tell her goodbye.
 I never got to tell her what she meant to me.

I don't remember the days between that Sunday and the day of her funeral.  I do know that my Mom took me out of school so that I could go to the funeral.  I have sharp images of that sweet baby in a frilly pink dress lying in the white coffin surrounded by pink flowers and a ribbon that said,"Our Darling Daughter".

My twelve year old brain could not process what was going on.  I heard some of the adults talking about the fact that Pat and Donny (her husband) were first cousins and that's why Gloria was the way she was.  I heard many say that it was for the best that she was in heaven with Jesus.

I didn't want her with Jesus!   I needed her here with me!  What kind of God takes a tiny baby away just because she was different?  What kind of God does that?

Unfortunately, no one attempted to explain it to me.  No one asked me if I was okay.

As I stood in the cemetery that January day, with the snow under my feet and the sun shining, the day wasn't the only thing that was cold.

My heart had frozen.  My twelve year old heart was breaking and I didn't know how to handle it. 

I could not tell her goodbye. 

So I turned my back as they lowered the casket in the ground and vowed that I would never again love someone like I had Gloria.  Never again would I allow my heart to feel anything like that.

When Pat and her family moved back to Arkansas in the spring, I didn't cry.  Not once. 

When I endured the teasing from being different in school, I didn't cry too much. 

I was hardening my heart and it served me well.  It got me through Jr. High.  And when I entered High School without wearing a back brace- it served me then.  I was more popular and had boyfriends.  I had friends but I did not value them too much.  I didn't want to let anyone know the pain I had inside.  The grief that I refused to deal with.  The baby I had allowed myself to love, but never told goodbye. 

I won't go into detail of how messed up I became during those years, but suffice it to say that I was a mess.  In college I did meet a boy who I did tell about Gloria.  He said he was a Christian and believed in God.  I was very skeptical of him. 

One day in January, he told me we were going on a road trip.  When we ended up in the cemetery in Mitchell, I knew why we were there.  I told him I did not remember where she was buried, so we scattered the snow off dozens of headstones with our gloved hands.

I was the one who found Gloria's stone.  It had her name on it and her birth and death.  I knelt down in the snow beside it and left my gloved hand on her name.  In that moment, I cried. 

I cried for all the years I hadn't been able to.
I cried for the loneliness I had felt.
I cried for the emptiness I had felt.
I cried for the memory of how much I had loved her.

As the tears froze on my face that day, a miracle was happening in my hard heart. 
It was softening.

It did not happen right away, but it was a long process for me.  It was a long road back to God.  But Gloria was the tiny child that paved the way for me.

Even all these years later, I am so thankful for Gloria. 

As tears run down my face now- I give thanks for God for giving us Gloria for even a little over a year. 

It was time to tell her story......

I love you Gloria Kay Heath.  You will live in my heart forever.