My Purpose is My Story

By Holli Wrice

It should have been a very special Mother's Day, at least that's what Holli has in mind for her mom, But her precious mother felt ill the day of and displayed stroke like symptoms. Greatly concerned about her mother's health and well being, Holli, dialed 911. From that moment on, cover-ups began to happen, lies began to be told and bizarre things continued to happen at the hospital in which her mother was taken too, and life, as Holli knew it would never be the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646286225

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My Purpose is My Story

Holli Wrice

Copyright © 2020 Holli Wrice

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-64628-621-8 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-64628-622-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dedication

Dedication Page to My Mom

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

My Purpose Is My Story

I want to thank God for giving me the spirit and strength to write this and, no matter what, for always holding me in your palms. Thank you, Lord God, for always being a gentleman when I've slammed many doors in your face and shut you out; you were always willing to accept me back with open arms.

To my precious mom, you're greatly missed and your memories live on forever more in your wonderful and splendid babies who were the apples of your eyes. We love you, Momma.

Tisha, Sonya, Zeffelin, Mark, and Hope—I love you, guys. Always remember where we came from, and if we have nothing else in this world, we have one another and know Johnnie Mae Wrice resides in each of us. That's a magnificent gift.

Special Thanks to Paula Bashi Buford, Clarissa Stateman, Vanetta Cain, Sharon Roach, and Arvella Farmer for being a shoulder to lean on.

Tamara Llamas, thank you for being my strength and rock in this place (prison). I want you to know I admire your strength to suffer two losses a year and two months apart and still manage to comfort others. You are an amazing woman. Glad to have you in my life.

I want to thank everyone for reading my material. Live life and fulfill your purpose.

Dedication

I dedicate this to everyone (man/woman) serving time. Know your self-worth. Don't allow anyone, especially a broken system, to steal your joy. They may have our physical bodies, but we still have our wonderful minds. Ladies, start owning who you are and live out your purpose. Men, start fulfilling your purpose in life like responsible gentlemen do. My prayers are with you.

Teresa Calton, thank you for everything and believing in me. Murshidah Hanifah, thank you, thank you, thank you! And with that being said, it's still not enough. I really appreciate you listening to me and caring. You are the one being that truly reminds me of my precious mom. Thank you for your true acceptance of me and your encouraging words.

Tisha, my oldest sister, thank you for always being there for me and the family. Tisha Wrice Atwell, you are an extraordinary woman, and I am very blessed to have you as an older sister. Your love and good deeds are not forgotten. Thank you for all your love and support. Mom truly resides in you.

To all my nieces and nephews, Aunt Holli loves you and wants you to live out your purpose. Sky is the limit. Know Grandma Johnnie Mae loves you guys bunches.

Dedication Page to My Mom

Momma,

Your precious life and untimely death have given me purpose. Continue to keep us as the apples of your eye (Psalm 17: 8).

Acknowledgements

To my oldest sister Tisha, thank you for being the in between making this all possible. Your greatness will not be forgotten.

I hope my works will do you proud.

To all my readers, I pray you will enjoy the read, considering the outcome, be moved and find your purpose.

To a few people that always made me feel human and not like another statistic or number. For that I'm greatful J. Abdullah, A. Carrigan, S. Boyd, K. Hollins, M. Kirchner, T. Moore and K. Kelly. Hollins and Boyd, you kept me laughing with your wonderful sense of humor. M.K. I really appreciate your encouraging words.

Special Thanks to Page Publishing and Crew,

Ashley Nottingham, thank you for all your assistance and helping me share my story. Your help has been amazing. I'm forever thankful.

Prologue

Order needed to be restored in my life. Oh, how grief was consuming me with each passing moment. I felt like I was merely existing moment to moment, from day to day. I wanted justice, but at what cost? I wanted justice for my loved one so bad. I lost touch with reality and I forgot the person I was. Grief had totally taken me over. Mourning and sorrow had me doing some things that were totally out of my character, and at times, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

Fifty-four days had passed since my mom was first admitted into the hospital. When they finally told me I could take her home, I was filled with so much joy, thinking everything with her health was better. We had been through fifty-four days of pure hell that I will never forget.

At times, it felt like a knife was being plunged into my heart. All the deceit, lies, and cover-ups can throw the strongest and most courageous person off course, especially when it's never-ending.

I had taken several avenues at seeking justice; I contacted many attorneys one after another to no avail. Only to have them string my family and I along for months on end. Even to the point of having them withdraw from our case without giving us reason. We wanted justice for our mother, and it seemed like everywhere we turned a door was being slammed in our faces.

I was overcome with anger and grief due to my mother's untimely death. What was even more heart-wrenching was the amount of negligence that led up to it. I allowed so much pressure to build up inside me, not realizing I was a ticking time bomb. Old friends began to resurface in my life. One in particular I hadn't seen in years. She was the one who really admired the bond my mother and I shared. My friend tried very diligently to help me obtain justice for my mom, except, somewhere along the way, we lost focus on the matter at hand which was getting justice for Johnnie Mae Wrice. Instead of continuously seeking justice, we engaged in an injustice, which disrupted all semblance of a normal, productive life for me. So here I sit in prison sharing my story which in this moment is my purpose.

Here is my story.

Chapter 1

This piece of work is about an extraordinary and very courageous woman. Her heart being fair, beautiful, and bigger than life itself. The smiles she so often displayed were so infectious and always warming and welcoming. To know and be around her was such a pleasure. She possessed a natural trait that comforted and uplifted others in ways that were inconceivable. She would do and give her best to anyone, all out of love. She was born July 9, 1947, the first child of Marcella Watts and Johnnie Edward Bryant. Her name is Johnnie Mae Wrice. She would become the oldest of nineteen children and the mother of six children. This wonderful person is my precious mother.

At an early age, when my mother and aunt Carol were just youngsters, my grandfather, Johnnie Bryant, traveled to get the two who were in the care of their biological mother, Marcella Watts, to raise them with his wife, which was my mom's stepmother, Essie Mae Bryant. Grandma Essie and Grandpa Johnnie were very devoted to family. It was the utmost importance to them. My mom and aunt Carol would visit their real mom on occasions but would return to the care of their father and stepmother. My grandpa Johnnie and grandma Essie made their home in Senatobia, Mississippi. My grandparents were very loving, smart, and well-spoken people. My grandfather Johnnie was a hardworking man; he could do just about anything and did to keep his family afloat. My mom would share with me that she learned a lot from him, and the most important was that family was everything.

My mother, Johnnie Mae, was so nurturing and was a great cook you would have thought that she had gone to culinary school because that is how well she cooked. She would be up at the crack of dawn every morning preparing something for us to eat because she felt that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. She wanted us to start our day off with a good breakfast. It always made me feel so special and truly loved. It is one of my fondest memories that I can remember from my younger years. My mother reveled in cooking for us.

When we became of age, my mom enjoyed teaching us, the boys and girls, how to prepare those not only tasty but mouthwatering dishes as well. We were really excited about learning and making something special. She wanted each of us to all be independent and able to do things for ourselves. Mom used to say, Live your own life and Do and feel what makes you happy. She would then say, No child of mine won't know how to cook. For some reason, that always brought a smile to my face hearing her say that.

There were six children in our single-parent home. Tisha, the oldest, then Sonya, Zeffelin, Mark, Hope, and me. Mom did marry my older sibling's father, but the union only lasted for a few years, and sadly it ended in divorce. I can honestly say we were my mom's everything; her focus was us. Every day she gave so much of herself, striving at showing us affection or giving us the best advice possible. My mom was always behind us and supported each of us. In our home, our fathers were absent, but we always felt loved and never were made to feel not loved, wanted, or like an outcast in our home. I believe my mom did an excellent job with us six children.

My mom never met a stranger, and people warmed up to her quickly; she just had that way about her. She was full of compassion and love and was always concerned for others. As a teenager, I can remember when Mom was attending beauty college. She learned to cut and style hair, among many other things, really well. In our neighborhood, there were some kids who were less fortunate than us, so before returning back to school in the fall, my mom would always make sure those kids had fresh haircuts free of charge. At times, she would go through our closet and give away old coats and sweaters. Upon us questioning her because it was our belongings, Mom would always tell us, Hey, kids, I have my reasons. She was a firm believer in sharing and giving back to your community. Sharing and blessing others was a must in her eyes. Mom used to tell us always, You never know what the next person has gone through. Nice gestures and kindness go a long way.

When she would come home at night from college, after preparing us something to eat, Mom would make sure that she taught our brothers, Mark and Zeffelin, what she had learned that day in class because she wanted them to learn and cut hair just like her in efforts of being self-sufficient later on. My brother Mark followed in Mom's footsteps. I'm very pleased to say after serving twenty years in the US Navy, he retired and opened up a barbershop. Several times throughout the year, he too offers free haircuts to the less fortunate children and locals in the community, and I know it is because that is what our mom instilled in him and us.

Tisha is also retired from the Navy, and she is also a single parent, raising two boys herself. She has a huge heart identical to that of our mom's. Tisha has not a selfish bone in her body. Being the oldest, she would help Mom out a lot with us. I can remember in the midnineties when the starter jackets were a real fad, Tisha sent Mark, Hope, and me all Chicago Bulls jackets. Mom was somewhat frugal, thinking the jackets were an unnecessary expense and that she could have gone to our local Walmart and gotten us several coats and shoes with the money Tisha spent on the three jackets. I'm not going to say she was upset about the jackets, but she sure did sit us down and explained the value of a dollar to us. We understood where she was coming from, but we were all in junior high and didn't want our wardrobe to consist of everything from Walmart. Mom told us to get the name-brand crap out of our heads and focus on our educations. Me having the mind I had back then, I didn't see a problem working at achieving both. Tisha even blessed my mom with a nice car because the one's she had she would loan to one of our uncles and they would tear them up or, for some reason, it would run for them, but not my mom. Tisha got tired of Mom not having reliable transportation and gave my mom a nice ride. My mom was grateful but didn't want to take anything from her children. With Tisha being persistent, my mother finally gave in and accepted the vehicle. That car made our lives better. We traveled more and didn't have to worry about the car breaking down.

My brother Zeffelin has had several restaurants over the years. While in business, he has fed the homeless and has done many positive things in his community as well. Having him for my oldest brother has done me proud. Zeffelin was the man of our house; the lack of any of our father's present made him step up. He is a great big brother, a wonderful listener, and when Mom was gone shopping or was at work, Zeffelin was in charge in our younger years. He helped us with homework and made sure we laid our clothes out for the next day. To look back, I can say we were all mature for our ages, and Zeffelin, being just a young boy himself, was very responsible and attentive.

My sister Sonya has four children, whom my mom helped raise and take care of, because Sonya has always worked a lot. You could say she is a workaholic. Sonya is very independent and family oriented as well.

My twin sister, Hope, is my best friend. We can't live without each other. We are each other's rock, having this unique understanding about each other. Hope had my niece, Shay, at a very young age, but our mom would take care of Shay so that Hope could finish school. Mom was also a firm believer in us getting an education. After high school, Hope and I had other plans. We felt college wasn't for us. So we didn't attend right away. We worked various jobs for several years. One day, Mom asked Hope and me if we were happy. We asked her what she meant. She wanted to know in fact if we were happy with our jobs and the lives in which we were living. We had no answer, so my mom said, Let me put it to you this way. You can spend the rest of your life flipping burgers or wiping up someone else's poop, or you can go to school and better yourself. She added, Give yourself four good years of college. Once you finish, you will see then how rewarding it is. I didn't catch on right then in that moment, but I would hear that again later and take heed.

To my mom, knowledge was power, and she wanted us to learn all we could, being most helpful Mom was always guiding us to fulfill our purpose in life.

I was my mom's only child that didn't have any children, and that was by my choice. My twin sister, Hope, and I had taken care of people in assisted-living homes, and we also were volunteer nurse's aides at the hospital when we were in school. That is where we could help the nurses pass out blankets and other supplies to patients in the hospital. We enjoyed doing it and also looked forward to seeing the patients. I loved going home in the evenings and telling my mom how we gave patient so-and-so Jell-O or we gave this patient flowers; my mom would tell us very good and then tell us she was proud of us and then encourage us to continue on at it. Hope and I both did for several years.

For the most part, we have all been law-abiding citizens. What my mom did on her own with six children most parents cannot do with one. Our mom was a beautiful person inside and out. She was truly an incredible lady, and I am not saying this because she was my mom. I am saying this because it's very true, and my mom lived, breathed, and walked in righteousness. My mom didn't have a lot of money, but she had a lot of love to offer. As a young girl, I never knew our struggles because Mom hid them so well. Every week for about four years, Mom would take us to this park with a nice lake; while we played, Mom had her Bible in tow. She would read it and pray for us; she shared with me years later. Those times at the park were so fun and loving. I would glance at my mom from the swings; she would be glancing right back at me smiling, looking so exquisitely pretty and divine. I can remember questioning myself how I become so lucky to get such a beautiful mom. I felt at peace in that park. My mom had this thing about her that made you feel you were the most precious and important being in the world, and I loved that about her.

My mother also loved church and wanted us to be in attendance as well. As a kid, I would rebel. I just couldn't understand the long services and the whole God thing. It didn't matter to Mom if you lived in her house; you best believe you were going. I can remember always thinking of something to get out of going to church. I knew early on my mother only liked to wear off black knee-highs. At times, when she would send me into our local store to get her a pair for church, I would go into the store and hide all the off-black knee-highs, so maybe she would change her mind about going to church. At home, I would go into her dresser drawers and put holes in her knee-highs; Mom wouldn't go, but that didn't stop her from sending us.

Mom never had an enemy, and if someone disliked Mom, she made it her business to make it all better with her good ole cooking and lots of prayers.

Fifty-seven years was all that we got. Her wrongful death snatched her away too soon, and we didn't even see it coming. Her children and family were beyond distraught; we felt deceived. I myself acted inappropriately and way out of character. I was enraged. I was succumbed with grief. That is the best way I could describe it. My heart cried out for my mother; my heart needed healing.

Chapter 2

In the dark morning hours, as I continued to study, where I had been for the last ten hours, several times I nodded off throughout the night; in between nods, I would gaze out the window and look at the stars in the sky. Every thirty minutes, I kept telling myself just ten more minutes and then I would go to bed. I knew I needed to study because my finals were coming up in just a few day. Not long after, I saw the morning sun coming through my big bedroom window. It was such a beautiful sight. I then opened up my blinds and let the sun shine in; at that moment, I finally realized it was Mother's Day, Sunday, May 9, 2004. I wanted to do something very special for my mother on her day because she deserved it and so much more.

So I came from under the spell of studying. I shut my computer down, closed all my books in which I was pulling resources from, and walked my stiff, aching body up the hallway and into the dining room where my mother, niece, and nephew were. I then pulled my niece aside and motioned her to follow me into the kitchen. I then discussed with her the plans for the course of that day, for my mom's great day. I was so excited to share the news with my niece about preparing breakfast and what we would do throughout the course of the day. My goal was to bring