David's Promise: Life After Death

David in Uniform

David and our mother one week before David's death.
David and our mother one week before David's death. | Source

November 1, 1979 started out like any other fall day. The air was crisp, not quite chilly. The sun was peeking through a few left over clouds from the night before. It looked like it was going to be a great day. I was up early as usual. My 18 month old daughter was a late sleeper but I liked to take the early morning hours to get a jump on household chores. My second daughter was due to arrive in three weeks and I wanted to make sure I'd have as little as possible to do after the birth. As it was, I expected to be a bit tired for the Christmas season.

In the early afternoon, I received an unexpected visit from my grandmother. Nana was on her way home from work and wondered if I could help her sort through a legal matter concerning some real estate she was contemplating buying. We sat down and soon lost track of time. In a startled rush, Nana jumped up to gather her belongings. Her bowling team had a match that night and she still needed to make a stop at the store for dinner supplies. It was only 2:30 in the afternoon, but my Nana was used to following a routine. Though it had been almost a year and a half since my grandfather had passed on, she couldn't bring herself to break the habit of having supper on the table by 5:00 pm.

At the time, I didn't understand an overwhelming need I felt for her to stay. I sort of laughed about it, but I told her I just didn't want her to go. I didn't know why. I asked her to stay for dinner. I figured it would allow her plenty of time to stop at home to change for her bowling match. In the mean time, I would have her company until this awful feeling passed.

We sat and enjoyed a cup of coffee before I turned to preparing dinner. It was only a little after three when the telephone rang. I was confused about the conversation. The girl on the other end stated that she was at the Hershey Medical Center with my mother who was asking for me. She identified herself as a childhood friend and offered to come and get me. It took a bit of time to sort out the confusion. The voice on the phone was Leslie, my friend from childhood. Her family had been very important to me during my grief over the loss of my father as a nine year old daddy's girl. Five years later, I would be there for Leslie when her own father unexpectantly died. In the previous few years both our younger brothers had forged a friendship through their love of football. My brother David was a starting offense player, while her brother contented himself with being the team manager of the local high school team.

Now it seemed on this fine fall afternoon, my brother had been taken to the emergency room and my mother was asking for me. Leslie quickly informed me that she was on her way to pick me up. Having no answers as to the nature of David's illness, I could only ask Nana to stay with my daughter until I found out what was going on. I ran down my apartment steps as fast as my pregnant body would move and settled on the front porch to wait for Leslie's arrival.

The previous Friday night, David had been taken down during the third quarter. The tackle wasn't any different than a hundred others he had recovered from, but I was terrified when the words “heart attack” flashed in front of my eyes. Our father had dropped over of a heart attack while walking to work ten years before. I jumped from my seat and waited for David to stand up. The whole stadium had become quiet as David remained face down on the turf. I ran and informed my mother that I was going down onto that field if she didn't go. Then after a few more tense moments, my brother was helped up. He leaned heavily on the two players helping him off the field.

Though he was obviously alive and walking off the field, I wasn't mollified. I had seen those words as clearly as if they had been painted on a blackboard. And I was afraid. I knew there was something wrong with his heart; I just didn't know what. At the time, I was convinced he had suffered a mild heart attack on the field. I was upset that the team doctor seemed content to let David just sit on the sidelines without further examination. I had begged David to go to the hospital when he arrived home that night. He refused. He was a senior with only two more games to play. He was not about to risk missing them.

I didn't tell anyone what I had seen that night. I didn't know how to explain it. From the time I was small, I experienced moments of knowingness. I saw things I couldn't explain, knew things I shouldn't know, but these things were very minor, insignificant events. I don't even think I realized it wasn't a normal occurrence that everyone experienced until I was much older. At the age of 19, I was aware of how people might respond to any revelation I might make.

That early November day I sat on the porch waiting for Leslie to appear. My thoughts were on my brother. I swear I could hear the words “heart attack” swooshing by every time a car passed. It was like a cadence in rhythm with the turning of the wheels. I started crying, speaking out loud to David to please wait until I got there. I was actually begging him not to die before I had a chance to say my goodbyes. You might find it curious that I was begging him to delay death rather than to not die at all, but I already knew his fate was sealed. Now I understood why I couldn't let my Nana leave.

The heavy feeling of dread I had felt at the thought of her leaving was the very same mixture of fear and dread I had experienced at the football game. Now I understood what it all meant. I had been given a warning six days before and I had misinterpreted it. The guilt and grief were unbearable.

Leslie never came that day. After waiting far longer than it would take for her to make the trip to my home, I turned to go back inside, still clinging to a thread of hope that I was wrong; that emotional extremes caused by advanced pregnancy were playing cruel tricks on me. I turned the house corner and almost ran into my grandmother who had come to get me. They tell me I howled like a wounded animal in the middle of the yard when my fears were confirmed. I don't remember making any sounds. All I remember is the feeling of being dragged into a very dark place and not wanting to come out again.

I don't remember much of the days that followed. There are some very sad little snippets of remembrance here and there, but nothing worth keeping. My grief was so great that I didn't know how I would be able to go on.

The morning of the funeral, my little girl came into my room and stood looking at her sad, sad mommy. She deserved so much more than I felt capable of handling that morning. She spoke very well for a child her age and so made the obvious statement. “Mommy's sad.”

I attempted to make excuses for my lack of mothering by explaining that Mommy missed Uncle David so much I couldn't stop crying. She looked at me for several moments, turned and left the room, returning a few seconds later with her coat. She pushed it at me. “We go see Uncle Dabid.” I explained that Uncle David was now far away in Heaven. She walked to the window and looked up at the sky as if calculating the distance. She came back to the bed and pushed her coat at me again. “We go Heabin, Mommy don't be sad,” she said matter of factly.

It was the first time I smiled in four days. This dear, sweet child was willing to travel a tremendous distance to bring happiness back to me. I don't remember much more of that day. I don't even remember who took care of my daughter while my husband and I went through the motions of bearing our grief. It is said that the mind has a way of protecting us from our most painful memories by allowing us to forget. I wonder why it is the actual events we forget rather than the pain that makes a home with us forever. I look at my mother and wonder, “How does she bear it? To lose first a husband, followed by the a son who was the very image of his father less than ten years later?” My Nana had to deal with the loss of her only son, her husband of 39 years, and a grandson with in the same ten year span.


A Beautiful Light in a Dark World
A Beautiful Light in a Dark World | Source

Tribute to those gone, by my older brother

That night I dropped into bed fully expecting another sleepless night spent in tossing and turning, being awakened by my own crying and tears. To this day, I don't know what time of night it happened. All I know is that I was asleep and then I was fully awake, but there were no tears in my wakefulness.

There in front of me was my brother looking very much alive. I was startled and questioning his ability to be present. Looking back, I find humor in the fact that I didn't question the idea that he was truly there, but more the idea that he could be there. I wanted to know how it was possible. He told me he could go anywhere he wished to be. I was really puzzled. I knew I was talking to David but no words were being spoken.

I looked around me and discovered we were in a room with no walls. The floor was wood. The ceiling, so high I couldn't even see it, was supported by wooden supports. It almost looked like an attic, but there were no walls, just endless floor and supports. David stood in the center of this great room. He was bathed in a bright white light, but I couldn't see the source of the light. It simply shone down on him from above.

David told me many things that night. He told me death is not as most people are taught to believe. When I asked him, he admitted that sometimes it hurt, but not in a physical way as humans understand, more in an emotional way. Those kinds of pains don't disappear with death, though they recede with time, as knowledge and understanding are gained.

David asked me to not be sad anymore, because it hurt him. When I cried that his death was too painful to bear because I missed him so much, he told me he could be with me any time he wished. He said it was all just a matter of him wanting it to be so, and just like that, he was there. I told him I was really unhappy with the knowledge that my children would never know him; that they would not have a chance to understand how wonderful he really had been. He was persistent, insisting that my children would know him.

Much like the Ghosts of Christmas, he took me to places in the blink of an eye, hoping to convince me of the truth of his words. One moment I was standing in the walless room, and then I wasn't. We stopped in his coach's yard where he was doing some gardening. David walked over to stand next to the coach. I couldn't hear what David was saying into the man's ear, but I noticed how the coach stood a little taller, staring into space as though listening. Later, he explained why he had gone there. He felt a need to check on his coach's welfare. He was worried about his need to blame himself. And so, David claimed to visit those he loved, often.

With his last words before leaving, he told me, “I promise I've given you the truth. And I promise with all my heart that you will be able to see me again. And your children will know me. I promise.”

When I woke in the morning, I knew he had really been with me. The overwhelming sorrow was gone. My spirit felt light, as though a boulder had been lifted from me, but I couldn't understand or believe his promise. As the years went by and my children grew older, I realized that the promise had only been my own mind making peace with my heart.


David's Senior Picture

David's senior picture taken three months before he died.  This appeared the 1979 Yearbook with a poem attached by his best friend.
David's senior picture taken three months before he died. This appeared the 1979 Yearbook with a poem attached by his best friend. | Source

Many years later, the daughter which ended up being born six weeks after David's death, asked to be taken to his grave. She had heard all the stories about her wonderful uncle who died so young. She wanted to see where he was buried. Lindsay had never shared much about her beliefs regarding life after death until she was the mother of two of her own daughters. Mostly we agreed on our beliefs, though I had never shoved my own ideals down her throat. In fact, I had never told her about my visit from her Uncle David so many years before. Now, unbeknownst to me, Lindsay was seeking answers regarding some strange happenings in her life, She hoped visiting the grave would help her sort it out.

It was the 4th of July when we made the trip. Lindsay asked if we could come back in September to plant some fall flowers. I thought it was a great idea, so I retrieved my camera from the car with the intentions of taking pictures in order to plan out the flower beds. After snapping a dozen different views, we headed for home.

We loaded the images into the computer the next day. We oohed and aahhed over how cute the two girls looked in the holiday photos. We got silly and started morphing some of the other relatives who had been at the family picnic. I stopped laughing when the first of the grave photos appeared on screen. Off to the left of the headstone was a very clear outline of a person. I magnified the image, searching for a natural explanation.

There in front of me, staring out from the computer screen was the very image of David. He was in his football uniform, as he had been on the day he died. The dark royal blue of his jersey and the bright yellow-gold of his pants were obvious. His shoulders were exaggerated because of the shoulder pads he was wearing, making his head look too small. His white socks and most of his cleats were visible.

Lindsay noticed that his stance was identical to another older photo in which he was posing with my mother. That picture had been taken exactly 12 days before his death and now sat safely inside a glass cabinet at my mother's house. She seemed hesitant to speak what was on her mind, and then decided to just spit it out. There had been some mysterious things going on in her house. Someone or something kept tapping lightly on the wall above her head whenever she started to go to sleep. She said it was annoying, but it stopped when she asked it to do so. It didn't matter which wall she moved her bed to, it always happened. Many times when she was watching television, or reading a book, she felt her hair being touched, almost like someone was teasingly tugging on it. She would smooth it down and then it would happen again. The large apple-shaped jingle bell she had tied to the knob of the deadbolt lock on her door was constantly being moved. She would find it in the bathroom, or on the kitchen counter, or even on the floor beside her bed. Her children were much too small to reach the deadbolt, let along untie the bell.

And the babies were talking and laughing at empty air, pointing and calling out. In the middle of the night Lindsay would hear one or the other carrying on whole conversations. She could make out some of the baby words her children spoke, followed by long silences, and then more baby words. All of those thing were Lindsay's explanation for needing to see her Uncle's grave. She claimed to “just know” it was him somehow.

I had never told either of my daughters about David's visit to me after his death. For many years I hadn't even given it a thought beyond the brief thought of “Wouldn't it be wonderful if...” Hearing Lindsay's explanation for her need to see the grave, followed by getting a snapshot of him as clear as the sunny day it was taken, allowed me to finally embrace the ideas that had been swirling inside my head since I had been a child. Because of my brother's untimely death, I am able to recognize that death isn't the end, but only the beginning of another phase of our life.

So I told my daughter of David's Promise.....

More by this Author

  • Origins of the Birthday Celebration
    13

    Where did the tradition of celebrating birthdays originate? Who were the first recipients of birthday celebrations and why did we honor them? Find these answers and more in the Origins of the Birthday Celebration.

  • The Spiritual Need For Sleep
    14

    Why do we sleep? Why do those who are depressed seem to sleep more? Sleeping is one way for humans to interact with their spiritual counterparts when searching for answers pertaining their lives. The author relates...

  • Commercial Ice Cream Ingredients Will Make YOU Scream!
    22

    If you love ice cream, you may be shocked to learn what goes into the commercially made product. Chemicals used as paint solvents, in printing inks and antifreeze, as well as soaps and detergents. Here's a list of...


Comments 23 comments

Stormlynn 5 years ago

Death is not separate from life, it is life changing. How marvelous whether the source be mind made or fact, to have engaged in such a life affirming and obviously life changing experience through the medium of death. Your brother's time spent connecting with you has been instrumental in the glory of your becoming. No greater honor could the celebration of his life receive.

Bittersweet tears and another captivating story. ~ovation~


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 5 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

I'm soooooooooo glad you've come to hubpages. Thank you, thank you. When are you going to write something????


Wintermyst profile image

Wintermyst 5 years ago

My mother died at the age of 46. She was my only parent as my father took off when I was only five. She came to me in a visitation and talked to me. You can tell when it is actualy a dream or a visitation. I am glad you got to talk to your brother.


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 5 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

Yes, we can tell if we'll only allow ourselves the luxury of believing it. Sometimes I think we have conditioned ourselves to only accept the concept of pain where death is concerned.


Rickmasters07 profile image

Rickmasters07 5 years ago from Clearwater, FL

Boy do I remember all that....I was announcing the game in the box, wasn't I....the day he got hurt......and YOU called me at work at Ram's Horn in the East Mall to tell me David passed and I remember my boss telling me to go home and going to the Host Inn to let my buddy Steve (Young) know......I eveidently couldn't stop punching walls because my hand was all beat up and I couldn't figure out why, until people told me I had been punching walls a few days later and the fact that there was a HUGE hole in the back office wall where I got the news...The idea that all of that happened...the dreams and what happened to Lindsay is a nice thought...I just wish I believed that sort of thing, but I don't...but....Imagine MY chagrin if it IS when we get there.....I HATE admitting I'm WRONG, man!!


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 5 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

Well, Rick, I hate to tell you...but that dream happened just as written. And let me tell you something else that I didn't know until about 6 or 7 years ago. I was visiting grandma and the conversation turned to talking about David. She was saying about how she and Pap had to leave the day of the funeral, to start the long drive home since Pap was expected at work the next day. Grandma was still pretty weepy when she went to bed late that night. Apparently she had a similar dream to mine with the exception that she wasn't in an endless, wall-less room, but an endless field of wild flowers with David. He told her she shouldn't cry for him because he's happy. According to Grandma he told her he was fine, and he didn't want any of us to grieve for him. She said she woke up fine the next morning and that was the end of crying over his death. She said the same thing I did...there was just an all encompassing feeling of peace.

If there was any doubt at all left regarding my own dream, Grandma's account cinched the deal. I'll have to look through my picture files. I have one of an image of David, in his football uniform, standing beside his headstone. At least I hope I still have it. I lost a bunch of pics a few years ago when my old computer went down. I'll see if I can find it when I get a chance and email it to you. In the mean time, believe what you want. As for me, I know what happened to me and how it's all played out since.


Rickmasters07 profile image

Rickmasters07 5 years ago from Clearwater, FL

I believe that you and Grandma had dreams...absolutely...and I've heard mom tell stories of that nature about her side of the family....I just find it hard to believe that as sensitive as I have always been and my interest in that kind of stuff that i wouldn't have been "contacted" in some way...by Dad...or David...or especially Johnny, as close as we were...I think the power of the MIND is a powerful force and that if you WANT to see something badly enough...you WILL....Now, I'm not discounting ANY of this, absolutely, I just think when we die...that's IT...like a computer going offline or a battery losing it's last charge...interesting how two siblings raised in, virtually, the same way come to different conclusions, isn't it....As for me....I always wondered why I never cry when I lose someone....I always thought that that's my pragmatism...telling me there's nothing I can do and making myself feel WORSE won't bring the person(s) back.....OR...could it be that, subconsciously, I already KNOW that what David "told" you and Grandma is true.........I wonder


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 5 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

If I ever took you on some of my jaunts, you wouldn't have any doubts. When Ron died, Brett took military leave to come and be with me. The weekend of his death, Lindsay and Brett decided to go to a local tavern for a few drinks to catch up on things. Ron loved his beer! and I had told Brett that if she had ever met him, I knew the two of them would have been drinking buddies, and I probably would have been mad at both of them for their behavior. As they were leaving, I told them to have fun but be careful with the driving.

After they left, I noticed my voice activated recorder left on the table, had activated itself. Thinking it had recorded our conversation about being careful, I played it back. It had kicked on some time after Brett and I had sat down at the table, so there was quite a bit of conversation. And then, right where I tell Brett to have fun, a male voice very clearly says, "Drink one for me." Brett, Lindsay and I listened to it over and over when they got home and there just was no logical explanation for us to hear a man speaking. It had only been the three of us there. I've gotten many of these types of recordings over the last dozen years or so.

As for your not being contacted: There's a couple of reasons why. 1st..what's the point of reassuring you of their well-being if you aren't having a difficult time accepting their deaths? I don't mean you have no feelings, but that some people are able to handle it better. The other reason, the one I think is what's really happening, is that contact is being attempted but the person on the receiving end isn't aware or in tune simply because they are so closed to the idea that they aren't aware of the subtle ways it can happen. I think when we close our minds to any possibilities, there's no chance we'll hear the knocks at the door.

As for the mind being powerful, I'm in agreement. But is it the mind which is creating these things, or is it that when we are open to the ideas, we create a pathway for what comes?


Alastar Packer profile image

Alastar Packer 5 years ago from North Carolina

Rickmaster is obviously a kind and very intelligent person; and he answered his own question as to why perhaps he wasn't contacted. Rick does the force that powers the computer shut down also. It may change, but it's never destroyed. Terri thank you for sharing this heart-breaking but ultimately beautiful connection. David's promise reveals much of our true and eternal essence. Increasing knowledge and understanding; a powerful thought for a powerful experience.


Rickmasters07 profile image

Rickmasters07 5 years ago from Clearwater, FL

Terri...everything you write is well considered and tho', I've never said this...I'm PROUD that you're my sister (no you can't borrow MONEY, now!)...YOU should be writing books or at the very LEAST for People or one of those kinds of mags...keep writing, kid


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 5 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

@Alastar: Rick is my brother...shhhh...don't let that get around...I don't encourage him too much. It get's difficult getting his head through a doorway! Thanks for your comment. It was indeed a heart-breaking event, but look what I've learned as a result??!!

@Rick: Awww, shucks...I really just wanted to borrow a couple of thou...actually, I'm blushing..your praise is almost more than I can handle. I said almost...could you repeat a couple of times?


Alastar Packer profile image

Alastar Packer 5 years ago from North Carolina

You've got a great brother there Terri; shout it out to the world!-- see, the wallets already open.


Ashley and Tony 5 years ago

Terri Tony and i just read your story. Brought tears to my eyes. It also makes me stop and think about some experinces i have had since your brother and i have me. when Tony and i first met.No actually before we met i had a dream and David was in it. Thing is i didn't know who he was until i saw that picture of him and your mom. Then one day i noticed after i had moved to pineford i would lay Jasper down for a nap and he would be laying there and he would be talking to the wall. One day i asked him who he was talking to, he told me " to the nice man " i was like um ok. Then he and Tony where talking and Jasper told Tony he was talking to his brother. I about fell over shocked Tony also. I noticed when Tony gets upset or stressed David comes to me in my dreams and he always tells me to take care of him. Then after we moved into the house on water,we started smelling blueberries. One day we where at your moms and Tony asked her who liked blueberries and she said David. So we now knew who that was. One day i was sitting on the bed reading and i kept feeling someone play with my hair and it wouldn't stop. I got a little peeved and yelled stop it and it stopped for a minute then it contuined when i went to slap whatever it was i felt a hand. This seems to be David's way of communicating with me because for awhile this became a nightly ritual and i would kick Tony and tell him to stop and he would say " it's not me". One morning the whole house smelled like blueberries. One year on xmas eve we had been at your Aunt Dee Dee's and we where talking and the computer monitor came on and went off. Then we heard bells. I think you have to be open to them or they don't make their presences known.


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 5 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

Ashley & Tony: I have no doubt that David comes and goes, checking on us all. There have been too many similar stories about others' experiences where he always comes to mind. Yes, I believe the touching of hair is one way he gets attention, but he was a great practical joker too, and loved to tease. He was never mean about his teasing, but he certainly got a kick out of it. Lindsay's babies often talked to those no one else could see. Once when Aurora was not quite 2, she looked at the chair next to her with severe annoyance and told someone only she could see, "That's Daddy's chair! Get off!" And she pointed her baby finger in sternness and didn't put her hand down until she was satisfied the chair had been vacated. Then she turned back to her dinner and continued eating as though nothing had happened. Glad you stopped by. I know today is difficult for everyone. Anniversaries of this type are sad. Give Tony a hug from his big sister.


ahorseback profile image

ahorseback 4 years ago

Only one thing to say , this is Beautifully shared! Be well ....:-}


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 4 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

Thank you!!


bac2basics profile image

bac2basics 4 years ago from Spain

Hi Terri. What an awesome hub, and I know it´s all true as my late husband visits me in spirit aswell. You must not for a moment ever blame yourself for not telling your brother what flashed before your eye´s. I´m sure if you had he would have laughed it off and carried on as normal anyway. Also it must have been his time...and not one of us can fight against that. It was very intersting to read also what you said about the children seeing him. I too have had this as my step daughter ( who passed away unexpectedly and without warning of any kind, just last week. Rest in peace love.)Once rang me from Australia to ask if dad was with me, I hadn´t felt him around, so told her no, and asked why. She told me that when she had been reading her son a bedtime story he suddenly asked " Mummy, who´s that man standing over there ?" It freaked Wendy out a bit I have to say, and she asked her son " What man where ?" The little boy then pointed and said " That man there, he´s smiling mummy" Wendy said her child was looking at her like she´d gone silly, and obviously he couldn´t understand why his mummy couldn´t see the man in the room with them. later on when Wendy went downstairs she asked out loud for her Dad to please make a sign if he was with her, seconds later the frame holding his photo fell over. There is no doubt at all in my mind that our loved one´s do come back to us from the other side, and I know that Wendy will always be there,with her dad and others, looking after her 3 children,from the spirit world. Thank you so much Terri for sharing your fantastic hub.


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 4 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

First let me say how sorry I am for your losses. It's a difficult thing to deal with no matter how deep your belief in an afterlife of any kind. I have to say, the experience with my brother certainly gave me new understanding about the world and my place in it. While I still sometimes find myself grieving for the lost years we might have had, I'm at peace in knowing that my loved ones are nearby and usually able to make themselves known to me if I'm willing to let them. Thank you for taking the time to comment and share your story at such a sad time.


bac2basics profile image

bac2basics 4 years ago from Spain

Hi Terri. Thank you too for your kind words. I still am grieving the loss of my Husband and it´been over 8 years now. You never stop Loving and missing them. Wendy´s death is also just starting to sink in. Although miles apart in actual geography and on an emotional level too really for the past years, it´s still terribly terribly sad. I have written quite a few hubs on personal loss. It does help knowing they are here in spirit, but sometimes that´s just not enough is it ?. It would have been my husbands birthday this coming Friday and no matter how much you tell yourself it´s just another day...it never is. I wish you well Terri . Anne xx


btrbell profile image

btrbell 4 years ago from Mesa, AZ

Beautiful! I have goosebumps.


Terri Meredith profile image

Terri Meredith 4 years ago from Pennsylvania Author

Thank you! I hope besides goosebumps you can find some comfort/assurance or affirmation of what happens when we pass through this life to the other side. When I realized how grateful I felt after realizing that there is more than just living and then dying into nothingness, I wanted to make sure I told everyone so they too could receive David's message. Thanks for taking time to comment.


btrbell profile image

btrbell 4 years ago from Mesa, AZ

I did! Thank you! I think I was a bit overwhelmed at the first reading. It definitely gives comfort. I also feel that there is more than just living and am in awe of those definitive moments that prove it. Thank you for sharing such a personal and special story. Voted up and awesome


Rickmasters07 profile image

Rickmasters07 4 years ago from Clearwater, FL

She's a GREAT writer...isn't she??...who KNEW, growin' UP?!!?

    Sign in or sign up and post using a HubPages Network account.

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs will be hyperlinked. Comments are not for promoting your articles or other sites.


    Click to Rate This Article
    working