Im no-one special, just an ordinary sixty-one year old wife, mother and nan who has always worked,

only taking short breaks to have my children, until I was hit with serious ill health at the age of fifty. Then everything changed, I changed and nothing has been the same since.

GLAD TO BE ALIVE

I would firstly like to dedicate my book to both our beautiful Babies with Wings. There isnt a day that goes by that I dont wish you were here with us and wonder what youd be like. Next are my MOM, SIBLINGS and Immediate FAMILY. I know we havent always seen eye to eye and I doubt we ever will but you know I love you all, especially you MOM. Then of course Id like to dedicate it to the first man I ever loved and never stopped, my DAD. My beautiful brother TOM who was taken from us far too soon and now Michael, another brother who was so wickedly taken from us just days ago. My cousin TINA who I got very close to in her tough twelve month battle with cancer, along with my aunties JUNE and MARION. I would also like to dedicate it to all those poor souls whove sadly lost their battle with cancer. And Id like to say to the ones who are fighting it now stay strong and most of all stay positive. God bless you all. And Id like to say a fond farewell to David McAllister the loveliest man I ever had the pleasure to work for, who sadly passed away just months ago.

Patricia Parkes

GLAD TO BE ALIVE

Copyright Patricia Parkes The right of Patricia Parkes to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781849630399

www.austinmacauley.com First Published (2013) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB

Printed and Bound in Great Britain

Acknowledgments
Without a doubt Id like to acknowledge Dr Handa and his fantastic team, also all the chemo staff on the Walkden Ward at Sandwell General Hospital because without them I wouldnt be here today. I would also like to thank Dr Beveridge for all her endless support both then and now along with Dr Andreou and other staff at the Oldbury Health Centre. A huge thank you to Katie Epstein who put so much time and effort into designing the cover. I especially want to thank my daughters Tammy and Beck for everything they did for me, not just physical, everything, because without them and their dads strength I dont know whether I could have got through it. I love you both so much and of course my wonderful son-in-laws Sean and Dave who were there for them and now my six gorgeous grandchildren. I love you all. Then theres Bill, my rock who really did see me through the worst times in my life and for that Ill always love you.

Prologue
Its Monday again and another visit to the Doctors. Its something I have to do now at least once in every two to three weeks. As usual I was early and went straight to the desk to book in. Ive been going down to the surgery to see the doctor for quite a while, so most of the receptionists know me by now and it was May who looked up and greeted me with a very welcoming and pleasant, Good morning Mrs Parkes, how are you feeling today? Screwing up my nose and fighting back the tears, I stupidly replied, Not too bad thank you. My heart sank as May still with a smile looked up again and said, Thats good if youd like to take a seat, I dont know how long shes going to be because shes running late. I hate it when they tell me that, because although Id said I wasnt too bad, I didnt really mean it. I was actually feeling quite anxious and very uneasy, just like I always do when I have to go to the surgery to see her. I quickly scanned the waiting room, looking for somewhere to sit and this time I was lucky, there were a couple of chairs tucked tightly away at the very back of the waiting room, so as quickly as I could I walked over to them and sat down. All the time I sat listening for the doctor to call out my name, I played with the pens and little bits of paper that lay in the bottom of my bag, which stood rigid on the top of my lap. I was petrified to look up at the very busy doors dreading that someone I might know would walk in or out and see me. Then like music to my ears, Mrs. Parkes yellow room one. It was the doctor telling me which room she was in, youd think Id never been there before and, oh god, how I wish that were the case. Before knocking on the door I took a few deep breaths, Go on Mom youll be okay. It was Tammy the eldest of our two most beautiful daughters who goes absolutely everywhere with me now, while Rebecca our youngest, and prefers to be called Beck or Becky, stays at home to

look after three of our four beautiful grandchildren. Jack who had only just turned twelve months was a bit of a handful, so Tammy brought him along with us. As I opened the door the doctor greeted us with her usual cheery, Hello youre looking well. How are you feeling? After sitting down and a few more deep breaths I told her that apart from my usual aches and pains I was fine, but mentally I was all over the place and she told me that was to be expected after what Id been through. Following a little small talk she gave me a thorough examination and as always, I was relieved to hear her say that everything was fine. Once shed removed the rubber gloves from her hands and thrown them into the bin, she quickly swilled and dried her hands, then went back and sat down at her desk, to make out my repeat prescription and with a little prompting from Tammy, I got up from the couch and went back to my chair and sat next to her. When the prescription was done the doctor looked up at me and cautiously asked if Id like to speak to a counsellor? I was su rprised to say the least, that shed even bothered to ask me that because she knew I wasnt very good with people at all now, I was even having problems talking to people Ive known for years. Family members with the exception of my one brother were still staying away from my home because Id told Bill and our girls to tell them to, I wouldn't even speak to them when they phoned the house. I was so down and distant I found myself hiding away from everyone. I didnt even like it when I came to the surgery a nd the doctor had a student in with her, so what made her think Id want to talk to a counsellor? I couldn't see how it was going to work but I didnt want to dismiss it straight away, so I told her I didnt know. After a short pause the doctor told me that she thought I should. For some reason she thought Id benefit from it. I wasn't at all sure about it, but she was quick to say shall we give it a go? Shes a lovely doctor, who can be quite persistent without being too pushy but Id been going to see he r for months, just going over the same old things and I was still no further forward than I was before all of this, and mentally I was starting to feel really drained, so maybe it would help me to talk to someone different. After Id thought about it for a while, I asked her if she knew whether Id have to see a man or woman and where Id have to go. She told me it would be a woman and most probably be there at the

surgery. As there was nothing to lose, I was prepared to try anything so eventually, I agreed. Looking rather pleased with herself, she told me shed set up an appointment and I should be hearing something in a few weeks, but if for any reason I didnt, I was to give her a call or make another appointment. Either way, I was to let her know and i f need be shed chase it up for me, then she asked me if that was okay. What else could I say but yes. Tammy and I came out of the room and back to the receptionist, who made my usual appointment for the following fortnight, but even before we were out of the surgery, I was starting to have doubts about seeing this counsellor. Tammy who can read me like a book, asked me what the matter was, but before I could answer her, she asked me if I was changing my mind. There was no point in lying to her, so I just told her I wasnt totally convinced Id made the right decision. Helpful as usual and always saying the right thing she told me it wasnt going to hurt anything to give it a go, and if I don't like it I didnt have to go again. Anxiously I waited for this letter, but another two weeks had gone by and it was time again for my regular check up, so along with Tammy and Jack I was back at the doctors. The first words out of the doctor's mouth after Hello were have you heard anything? Angrily I said, not a thing. With a look of disbelief and confusion she told me I should have heard something. As all our medical notes are not only on written file, but also on computer now, with a more serious look about her, the doctor put on her glasses and started to punch away at the keyboard and as the information started to appear onto the screen, she told us that they did know about me because she remembered writing to them. She was right, she had written to them and theyd written back to her saying, there was a small waiting list and theyd be in touch with me shortly. A more relaxed doctor said, so you should be hearing something fairly soon and you should definitely have some news for me by the next time I see you and I told her I hoped so. After our usual talk and her attempt at reassuring me, we said our goodbyes and along with Tammy and Jack we left the room. Having a good doctor says a lot, especially one who will take the time to sit and listen to you, without you feeling as if they are shoving you out of the door, but our talk that day had done absolutely nothing

for me and I left the surgery feeling exceptionally low, Id go as far as to say I was probably borderline depressed. The only other people Id talk to apart from the doctor, was my husband and our daughters, who I must say were absolutely brilliant, but it didnt take a genius to know I was starting to grate on their nerves, even though they insisted I wasnt. I was driving them mad, I know I was because I was driving myself mad and even on those so called not so bad days when I was trying desperately hard to be positive and Id promise them Id be different tomorrow, but as much as I wanted it too, tomorrow never came. I know it wasnt easy for them either and I dont know how Id have got through those past twelve months without them and I thank god every day that they can only imagine what Id been through and this was how it had left me. All told it was about four weeks before the letter with the appointment was eventually pushed through my letterbox. It was for the following week and to my relief it was to be at the surgery. Id waited that long so another week wasnt going to hurt and all I had to do was phone and tell them Id be there. Every day and sleepless night of that following week was different because I didnt know from one day to the next, whether I was going to keep the appointment or not, till it was actually here and I found myself back at the surgery. Doing the same old things, like looking for a seat at the back of the room, but now I was watching the doors like an hawk praying that no-one I knew would walk in and see me, because I knew if that happened theyd come over and talk to me and I really didnt want to see or talk to anyone, and I still wasnt sure about the counsellor. Thankfully I didn't have to wait too long, before a young woman opened the door into the waiting room and quietly spoke my name. As I stood up the young woman glanced over and acknowledged me with a friendly smile. I looked at this young woman, who I think could only have been in her mid to late twenties and thought, she cant be the counsellor shes far too young. But as our old surgery had been knocked down and a new one was being rebuilt, we were in a temporary one made up of porta cabins, so I thought maybe she was just someone, whod been sent by the counsellor to show me the way to her room. Reluctantly I walked over to the door that the young woman was still holding open. Id got the usual sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, which was probably due to all the negativity that I was carrying around with me.

Dont get me wrong, I'm no one special and like everyone else I've had my moments, but all round I think I was pretty much a jolly person, prior to all that had happened and now it's hard to believe that Ill ever really be happy again or laugh and sing like I used to. As I reached the door I took hold of the handle and the young woman turned and started to walk down the narrow corridor, then with me close behind I followed her, like a lamb to the slaughter. Shed only walked a little way before taking a sharp left turn, then a few more steps before going through another door and pressing a button on the wall that would bring the lift that I didnt even know was there. We didnt have to wait too long before the lift came and the door opened so in we went. Still smiling, the young woman pressed one of the small black buttons that lay flush on the big metal panel and as the door started to close, she vigorously started to rub the upper part of her arms saying, Isnt it cold? I couldnt believe shed said that. At the end of the day it was the middle of winter what did she expect? Now thats not really fair and I shouldn't be saying that, because I carry a bit of weight so rarely feel the cold and I wasnt cold at all. I was quite the opposite, my face was on fire and the palms of my hands were starting to sweat, but I didnt want to seem rude to her, so I just nodded my head and agreed. It had only been recently that I'd started to have problems, where my heart jumps up into my throat and pounds away, every pulse in my body throbs, my legs turn to jelly and my mouth gets embarrassingly dry. It had happened to me a few times and Id mentioned it to the doctor and she told me they were panic attacks and I wasnt to worry about it, but I did and no matter how hard I tried to ignore them it was difficult, as every one I have, seems to last longer and they were getting worse and I was having one then in the lift and even though the young woman didnt say anything, I was sure shed picked up on it. The lift stopped and once again the door opened and I followed her onto a small landing, there were a couple of closed doors and I wondered which room I was going into. Still in front of me, the young woman walked up to the door and without knocking she took hold of the handle and turned it, then pushed the door open and walked straight into the small room, before turning to face me. Then all of a sudden, it was as if she was reading from a card, she went on to say, Come in and sit down, my name is ---. Anything you tell me is strictly confidential and stays in this room.

Sit down, I nearly fell down, I was totally gob smacked, she was a counsellor the very woman Id gone to see. All the time she was going on about rules and confidentially I just sat there looking at her thinking! I cant talk to you . Youre younger than Tammy. Who l must say goes absolutely everywhere with me these days the Doctors, Hospital and even shopping when I can bring myself to go. Its a real case of me and my shadow and she wanted to be there with me that afternoon but I had to tell her no and I was beginning to wish I hadnt. I dont know how long its been since I went anywhere on my own, but Its been quite a while, so I knew keeping the appointment was going to be far from easy, but it was something I was going to have to do. Anyway there was no point in Tammy going with me because I dont think for a minute that the counsellor would have let her go into the room with me and as Id never been to one of those sessions before I didnt know how long I was going to be , and no way was I going to have her sit waiting outside for me . Tammy wouldnt have minded but I would and I wasnt prepared to let her do it, but I did promise Id phone her as soon as I could. Tammys a sufferer of OCD and like me shes petrified of change, so it took a lot of persuading but eventually she agreed that Id go on my own. Then bringing me back to earth the counsellor said, so if youd like to say something Im all ears. I thought, I bet you are. It felt weird, wed gone all the way from the waiting room to there, barely speaking a word and I was supposed to tell this woman everything? Youd have had to be blind not to see how scared I was, but after a short and uneasy silence I told her I didnt know what to say or where to start? She told me that in her experience starting at the beginning was a good place, then went on to tell me to start from wherever I felt most comfortable. That was part of the problem I didnt feel comfortable at all. I dont know whether it was to make me feel better or not, but then she went on to say she wasnt there to pas s any kind of judgement on me, she was just there to listen and help in anyway shape or form if she could. Way back in the waiting room, Id wondered what the hell was I doing there but by then I was wishing I hadn't bothered. Initially it was true, I didnt know where to start then before I knew it I was pouring my heart and soul out to her, talking about everything and nothing. All the time she sat opposite me, listening to

every word I was saying, her head tilted slightly to the side and every so often she gave a tiny little nod. Then I realised the smile Id noticed when I first saw her, was still on her face but now it almost seemed patronising. It wasnt till Id finished talking, that she very politely asked me what it was I wanted. I thought it was pretty obvious but I told her anyway, I want to move on, thats what I want. But its like Im stuck here in a time warp and Im going absolutely nowhere . Then with a slight raise of her eyebrows she said that it was only me who could do something about it. Sarcastically I thought WOW! This woman must be a genius. I mean what a statement to make, did she really think I enjoyed feeling this way because if she did, then shes the one who really needs to see a counsellor not me! By this time, she was leaning forward with her elbows placed firmly on her knees with her lower arms stretched out in front of her and the palms of her hands facing upwards. She put out her left hand in front of me and said, You can either move on Then the same with her right hand and a slight shrug of her shoulders she said, Or you can stay here . I sat watching this woman using her hands like a pair of weighing scales, going up and down balancing out the odds and repeating two or three times, Move on, stay here? Its up to you, no one can do it for you. I thought how dare you sit there with that patronising smile on your face and equally, as I thought, tone in her voice. I was so glad she couldnt read my mind because she certainly wouldnt have liked what I was thinking. This wasnt easy by any means. It was a really difficult time for me to say the least. Id bared my all to this woman, telling her all about the bad things that had happened to me and my family within the last couple of years. Then I told her that that was without the other things that had happened to me in my life. All the anger and frustration Id been feeling up until then was still there, but it was worse and Id added the awful feeling of embarrassment because Id shown my weakness by breaking down and crying in front of her. I've shed so many tears over the last few years that I didnt think it was possible for me to cry anymore and even though I am an angry person now I'm not a violent one, but it was taking everything Id got to keep myself together, because I actually felt like hitting something.

After quite a while of trying to control even more tears, I told her I could write a book and she said, Why not, youd be surprised at just how much better writing things down can make you feel. She even told me it might help me to move on. I thought the session was supposed to make me feel better? I know I was hoping it would but it hadnt, it had actually made me feel worse. I didnt like the way I was feeling at all, so I stood up to leave telling her I wanted to go. She wasnt reading me very well at all because she just went on to tell me that I still had fifteen minutes left and I may as well use them. She paused for a moment then asked me if I thought I might want to come again, telling me it wouldnt be with her, as she only did the assessments. She may as well have asked me if I wanted my teeth pulled out with a fork, Im sure it would have been less painful. I told her I didnt think so, I just wanted to go, she said that was okay, but shed make me another appointment just in case I changed my mind. There was no fear of that, no-way was I ever going to put myself through another one of those sessions, with her or anyone else, but still trying to be nice I told her okay. Id have told her anything to get me out of that room. As she opened the door for us to come out, she said, There that wasnt too bad, was it? HELLO! Was this woman for real, or was she even in the same room as me, now let me see. Had she just won a six month battle against cancer? NO I dont think so, then (no it wasn't too bad for her at all) but for me it was torture. I know she was only doing her job but I personally found her to be insensitive and patronising. Dont get me wrong, I wasnt there for any kind of pity, that was the last thing I wanted, but I was hoping to get some kind of peace of mind and I didnt. The relief I felt as I walked out of that room was unreal, but it was while we were walking back to the lift, that I made the stupid mistake of asking her if the job was depressing and very proudly she said no and told me she loved it. OH MY GOD why do I keep putting myself through it? With gritted teeth and fighting back yet even more tears I thought Yep! That would be right it must be real peachy living off the misery of others. I didnt like thinking that way it was just the way she made me feel.

By the time the lift came I was crying and I couldnt even look at her, so I just walked in and pressed the button on the panel. When I got down to the ground floor and the door opened again, I was relieved that there was no-one waiting to get in. I went straight from the lift through the waiting room and out into the street without even looking up. I was feeling really stupid but I was angry with myself more than anything for allowing myself to get so upset? I hurried around the corner back to where Id parked my car and slammed my bag on top of the bonnet and rifled through it trying to find my keys, but they werent in there, they were in my pocket. I pressed the pip on the small black fob and unlocked the car, I opened the door and slowly lowered myself inside and sat there for a while, trying to get myself together. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to drive it the state I was in, Id have either hurt mys elf or at worse someone else. I couldnt sit there too long without drawing attention to myself, so after a while I started the car and off I went, not actually remembering the drive home just the getting out of the car once I was there. I was surprised that Bills car wasnt there. As it had been a late afternoon appointment I thought hed have been home before me, but he wasnt and I was glad of that. There was only one of two places he could be, that was either his sisters house getting his hair cut, or he hadnt finished work, either way it didnt matter. Mikey our old and faithful dog had already started to bark, long before Id even put the key in the door and as I was still feeling quite fragile it started me off crying again and wondering, when was it all going to end. He was still barking as I opened the door and he almost knocked me over with excitement as I walked into the living room, so I had to scream at him to shut up and I told him to move out of my way, which sent him skulking off around the back of the settee, which made me feel guilty. It wasnt his fault I was feeling so low, he was just happy for someone to be home. I threw my keys into the fruit dish that was sitting on top of the bureau right behind the door and threw my bag onto Bills chair, then went straight upstairs to swill my face before he got in, because he hates it when I cry and I didnt want him to know how upset Id been. But thats a stupid thing to say because wed been married over thirty years, and he has a tendency to know Im upset before I know myself.

Id been home long enough to cook the tea before Bill came walking in. Hed worked over trying to catch up on some paperwork that needed to go onto the computer. Well, how did you get on? As if I need to ask. Yes, you guessed it, I was crying again, and as he tried to comfort me by putting his arms around me I pushed him away, which made him angry and he told me I couldnt go again. Bill , whod always been easy going and everyone seemed to love him, had changed a lot since his moms death eleven years ago and he, like myself, carries a hell of a lot of anger around with him. But he's never ever tried to tell me what to do, so I just sat there crying and listening to him while he was spouting off. I didnt argue with him because I knew what he was saying was right but between the sobs I did try to tell him what had happened at this session, but the more I tried the more upset I got, so we sat and ate our meal in silence which gave us both time enough to calm down. He hadnt wanted me to go in the first place but I was in turmoil, I couldnt see any light at the end of any tunnel and I wasn't getting any better and he knew that. When I was calm enough to talk about it, I told him what Id said to the counsellor about writing this book and he laughed at first, then not really surprisingly he said, Why not? Id only said it because I was angry at that particular time but that was two years ago and Im still angry, at the horrible and painful events that we as a family have had to endure. I also find myself looking back over the whole of my life. My childhood was nothing special and though I do realise that others have had it much, much worse than I have, I do think Ive had quite an eventful and even scary life at times and after even more regular visits to my doctor and still struggling with myself for quite a while, Ive started to think about what that counsellor had told me, about writing things down to make myself feel better, and if it's true then perhaps this is the way to go and I should finish up feeling like a million dollars? Though to be perfectly honest I would be more than happy to just get my life back on track, though as pessimistic as ever, Im not going to hold my breath

Chapter One
So here we go, Im fifty three years of age now and Im taking the advice of the counsellor by doing as she suggested and starting right at the beginning, with my very first memory and thats not a pleasant one. I was about eighteen months old at the time and living at my Nans with Mom and my three older brothers Tommy, Michael , who we refer to as Mick, and Keith and as moms the eldest of eight children, I think most of them were also still living at home, including moms married sister Iris and her husband Harry, with their young son also called Harry, but to save any confusion everyone called him little Harry. Nans was a big corner house that sat at the end of two roads and it was the first in a block of four, with the front door in the one street and the entry to the back of the house in the other. There was a big communal yard that housed two brick buildings called the brew house, one was right at the far end of the yard for the people who lived in the two houses down the bottom, and the other one was just to the left of our back door, that Nan shared with her friend and neighbour Hannah. The brew house was pretty basic, with the big thick deep white crock sink and wooden draining board, that was used to do the laundry and washing and preparing of the vegetables. There was also an aluminium bath propped up against the wall and a small electric boiler. The garden wasnt that big really because of the big garage right at the bottom and the loo was also outside. The house was massive with lots of rooms one leading off from another. There was no bathroom and the kitchen was just another room with a cooker in it. Because there were no sinks in the house there was no running water indoors so all the water needed inside the house had to be carried in from the brew house. In spite of its size there werent enough bedrooms to sleep everyone so me and my brothers had to sleep in a big double bed in the front room, while mom slept on the floor. Sunday night was bath nights for us, so mom would bring the aluminium bath in from out of the brew house and put it in front of

the fireplace, before filling it with hot water then cooling it down with cold. Then one by one starting with Tommy, who we now refer to as Tom, right down to me shed strip us off and sit us in t his bath, then with a whopping square piece of carbolic soap in her hand shed rub away. The soap was so hard that as she rubbed it up and down my arms and legs, it felt like I was on fire. When she was finished, shed lift me out, nine out of ten times with an old sheet and wipe me down, then I was put into clean vest and pants and even before I was properly dry, shed put me into bed with the others. One such Sunday wed had our baths and all four of us were in bed, when mom came back into the room carrying the aluminium bath again, but this time it was filled with wet washing. She carried the heavy bath into the middle of the room and bent over to put it down, but lost grip on one of the handles and the bath hit the floor with a dull thud. As she stood up her black shoulder length curly hair was stuck to her wet face and she gently brushed it away with the back of her hand. I sat and watched mom go over to the corner of the room and drag the big heavy wrought iron mangle, to where the bath of wet washing sat. With the bath in front of her she bent over and started to sort the washing, taking a sheet and putting corner to corner mom started to fold it. Keith who was about three at the time got out of bed and started to run around the room and mom told him to get back into bed but he wouldnt. Mom put the corner of the sheet up to the rollers and started to turn the handle on the side of the mangle and the water gently started to run down the sheet. Very carefully mom continued to feed the sheet through the two long rollers and the further the sheet went through, the wider the roller's became and the water was gradually getting heavier, cascading down like a small waterfall splashing onto the rest of the washing that lay in the bath and gently bouncing off to make small wet patches on the floor. Keith was still running around the room and mom was trying really hard not to shout at him. I sat there mesmerised just watching and listening to the sound of the water running down the sheets and finally Keith stopped and went over and stood in front of her. I could feel my eyelids gradually getting heavier and heavier so I lay down and went to sleep. Suddenly there was screaming and shouting, I sat back up shaking, then crying, but I didnt know why.

Mom was kneeling down holding Keith and Nan came into the room followed by Uncle Harry then Aunty Iris. Nan told Uncle Harry to go and fetch Andy, who I know now was the head ambulance man at the station which was right over the road from where we lived. Apparently Keith had tried to help mom with the washing and somehow managed to get his hand tangled in the washing as mom was putting it through the rollers. Andy came over and eventually got Keiths hand free, I think he was taken to the hospital because I remember his hand being bandaged up, but Im not really sure and neither is he. There was no real damage done to his hand, though he has got a very crooked little finger now.

Chapter two
I dont remember that much about Hannah really, only that her house was filled with old fashioned furniture, she had a couple of cats, a shop, and Aunty June (the youngest of moms siblings) spent a lot of time with her. And she moved. I remember walking up the road hand in hand with Nan one day and we bumped into Aunty June, who was on her bike coming from the opposite direction, I was probably about three. Nan stopped to talk to her for a while, then Aunty June rode off towards Nans house and we carried on walking up the road. The sun was shining and even though there was a slight breeze, it was really warm, I didnt know where we were going because I didnt recognise anything. We walked about halfway up this big hill, before Nan led me up the path of a bungalow. She looked down at me and told me we were going to see Hannah and not to be scared, I wasnt scared I liked Hannah. When we got to the top of the short path, we walked up the couple of steps and Nan knocked on the front door, which was opened by a man and we walked straight into the living room. Nan was still holding my hand while she was talking to the man and I looked all around the room for Hannah, then I saw the long brown box in front of the window. Nan told me again not to be scared as she bent down and picked me up and held me over the open box. Scared didnt even register with me I was petrified . This wasnt how Id remembered Hannah. I screamed and kicked at Nan till she put me down, then I ran out of the house and down the road, till I heard Nan calling me to stop. Ill never know what possessed her to take me to something like that at such a young age. I had nightmares for I dont know how long and now whenever I think of Hannah, or an aunt mentions her to me, all I see is her lying in that coffin.