Sittin’ at a Bus Stop, Waitin’ on a Train

By Lynn Woodruff Gray

Grief is a long road without end, and time is not the healer, but what you do with that time that heals. The choices you make in your journey meet with many challenges, but there is always an open door for better days. You may take two steps forward and six steps back, but it is those two steps that will make the difference. Holding to the rope railings of a swinging bridge as you move forward, is a shaky endeavor, but not one that cant be accomplished if you keep moving. This is what Lynn realized when coming to terms with her emotions. It was like sittin at a bus stop, waitin on a train.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512793710

Lynn Woodruff Gray

A self-published author of books on genealogy and the early days of country music, Lynn Woodruff Gray found it easy to put her heart on paper. Being born with a song in her heart, Lynn never dreamed that same music would show her a better understanding of the circumstances of her life. Joined with her love for God, the words of a song opened her eyes, not only to a way through the grief of losing her son Allen, but the desire to help those in the same struggle. Grief is an on-going process that needs many shoulders. Lynn’s desire is this book will be that shoulder for many as it has been for her in its writing.

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Copyright © 2017 Lynn Woodruff Gray.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Waitin’ on a Train, Written by: Scott Reeves, Trey Matthews, Riley Weston

Published: Gregory Scott Reeves/Sweetwater Jams/BMI. By Permission.

Stacey Cernadas photo: By permission of A&W Photography—Wendy Browne and Javier and Liz Cernadas.

Cover graphics by Melissa Solomon, Curiosity Creatives

WestBow Press

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9369-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9370-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9371-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017910928

WestBow Press rev. date: 07/12/2017

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to Scott Reeves.

Regardless of the songs I know or have heard or will hear, there will never be a song that means as much or has made such a drastic difference in my life as Sittin’ at a Bus Stop, Waitin’ on a Train!

Scott Reeves knows people and is known all over the world. He is loved and respected by all who know him or of him. He is an actor, writer, singer, and husband, but most of all, he is a parent. When he realized my loss, his heart reached out to me as a parent’s heart would.

The night I met Scott, I had no idea he and his writing talent would change my life forever. His genuine character, not his celebrity, made him special in my eyes.

Real is only a word, but it describes the person who wrote this song without exception. Regardless of the original reason causing him to write these words, I will always know God had a purpose for them, and He used Scott to put them into play. I gained new life through this writing as well as a forever friend.

Thank you, Scott!

Introduction

I didn’t write this book to exploit my son’s death or draw pity for my loss. Had I thought of writing this book on my own, it may have never happened. While it has been a short time from his passing—and I know my journey is not complete—I have been inspired to share a message. I hope I will identify and help eliminate things that appear uncontrollable in others’ lives.

There is no getting over the loss of a child. I have a scar on my forehead from a childhood injury that’s more than sixty years old. I remember the cause every time I put on my makeup as though it had just happened. The same goes for the loss of a child. Every time you think you’ve been lifted above that pain, something will cross your mind, something will be said, a memory will cloud your eyes, and the hurt will come back to the forefront. The challenge is how you deal with it and being aware that dealing with it is a daily process.

I will say many times in this book that time is a liar. Time does not heal your pain, but what you do with your time can make a difference. Putting makeup on the scar does not eliminate the scar; it just covers it for a while. You will still remember how that scar occurred.

Right after such a tragedy, your emotions go into a blender and your mind dissolves; your past reality is no more. The new normal is like a puzzle of a blue sky for which you can never find the last piece. You try to fill your life; you hide behind the smile you think is expected of you.

I’m not a psychologist or an expert about the mind and how we deal with the issues of life. I’m a mother who has lost a child, and this book is my story and how my survival has evolved on a moment-to-moment basis. I am a strong, independent woman who has been brought to her knees by the devastation of the loss of that child. The shock of the loss of my strength and independence mentally equaled my son’s death. It was Alzheimer’s of sorts. I knew faces, voices, and places, but I couldn’t identify them with normalcy.

In the story of my journey, I have made statements of how things people said affected my emotions. I know their statements were meant in kindness and love with no ill intent; my comments simply reflect the effects they had on my emotions.

The mind and heart have a way of accepting or rejecting according to their state of being at the time. It is a challenge to breathe much less decipher what has been shared with them. It is difficult for those who want to share their sympathy to comprehend the state of your existence. Sometimes, words and feelings don’t come across as they were meant.

I pray this book will help those who are going through the loss of any loved one. My experience has given me a different look on life and death. I have had to make choices and changes and come face to face with reality, but the most important adventure has been growing closer to God. He has been and will continue to be the source of my survival. I give Him praise for each breath since that moment changed my life forever.

God bless you in your journey!

Lynn Woodruff Gray

Author of I Guess You Had to Be There

Contents

The Last Call

A Night To Remember

My First Promise

My Second Promise

Happy Birthday, Son

The First Thanksgiving

The First Christmas

The New Beginning

It’s Like Sittin’ At A Bus Stop Waitin’ On A Train

The Freedom Of Permission

Always Somebody Else

It’s Gonna Get Better

The Challenge Of Winter

Life’s Highway

Allen

We’ll Take It From Here

Don’t Let The Dark Shadows Outstay Their Welcome

Get Over It?

In Appreciation

The Last Call

H ey Ma, what’s up?

Oh, nothing much. I’ve taken some days off from work to clean this house and celebrate my birthday.

Got big plans?

Well, tomorrow night, I am going to the ROPE Awards show. You know, the Reunion of Professional Entertainers, and Allen, you’re not going to believe what I get to do on my birthday. I get to meet Pat Boone! Do you know how long I’ve waited to meet him?

Ma, that’s fantastic! How is all this going to happen?

I explained that Pat Boone had a new CD and would have a signing release event at the Ernest Tubb Record Shop on Broadway. David McCormick, the owner, had told me about it and wanted to know if I could come. Allen was so excited because he knew how I had loved Pat Boone since I was a teen.

Again, emotions were stirred when he said, Ma, promise me something.

I laughed. What this time?

Ma, when you see Pat, give him a message for me. Tell him how much his music has meant to me because I knew him through my mother. Please tell him that for me. He doesn’t know me from Adam, but I want him to know that.

I promised him that if I got any time at all with Pat, I would make sure I delivered the message.

Make sure you tell him that.

I agreed to.

Hey, Ma, the strangest thing just happened to me.

What?

I had the day off and was going to do a bunch of stuff, but I sat down to have a cup of coffee and must have gone to sleep. When I woke up, I thought I was late for work, and I called in to tell them I was on my way. They said I was off today.

I could tell his voice was trembling. As any mother would do, I tried to console him. Son, that happens sometimes. You must have been really tired.

No, Ma, this was different. It was scary! He started to cry. I just want to come home. I want to see my mama.

My voice was trembling, but for his sake, I tried to control my emotions. Allen, you’ll see your mother in just two weeks, and we’ll have such a good time.

We had planned our annual trip to east Tennessee to watch the leaves change color. The lodge had been rented and family had been invited. We had planned every meal; it would be a great time. Allen was so excited that his nephew was coming. They had been communicating their big plans to sit on the deck and play guitar and maybe go fishing. I know, Ma, but I just want to come home! Hey Ma, promise me something?

My mind raced through all the things he might want me to promise.

Promise me that if I don’t make it to the get-together, you’ll go anyway.

And just what is going to get in the way of stopping you from coming?

Just promise me!

Okay, I said. I’ll go anyway, but why wouldn’t you be able to make it?

Ma, I’m just saying …

I could tell he was becoming more emotional.

Son, is something wrong?

There was a silence for a while.

Ma, do you remember …?

He mentioned several childhood memories and how much he loved looking back on those special times.

And do you remember …?

He talked about school events, people he had known, and how he knew I had done the best I could to make everything work and everyone happy. He laughed, and in his mocking of my sarcastic mannerisms, he said, And even though you failed many times, you always made up for it.

We began to laugh, but I could tell he was still crying.

I made every attempt to hold back my tears and be strong for his emotions as he continued with his memories.

Ma, you know I love my sisters. Even though we didn’t always get along, I love them with all my heart.

I know you do, Son, and they know you do.

"I hope so. Ma, do you remember when