Truly Loved
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About this ebook
Rose Sweetflower
Rose Sweetflower was born in a small town in Nevada in 1959 when life was simple living among a town full of miners. Her mother and sisters then moved to the hills of Kentucky, when she lived as a hillbilly learning their ways. However, Rose grew up in the mountains of Idaho among miners and their families. After she graduated from High School, she moved to Utah and pursued her career as a beautician. She married and raised a family, partly as a single parent. Her hobbies include, hiking, rock hounding,discovering genealogy leading back to the Mayflower and The Oregon Trail pioneers. Her favorite passion is creating art through inspiration. She now travels with her wonderful husband and their two precious pups, Kodi and Angel. They plan on retiring soon and build their home near Springerville, Arizona, where her husband grew up.
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Truly Loved - Rose Sweetflower
Copyright © 2020 Rose Sweetflower.
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.
Balboa Press
A Division of Hay House
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Bloomington, IN 47403
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1 (877) 407-4847
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.
The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.
ISBN: 978-1-9822-4425-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-9822-4424-8 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-9822-4430-9 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020904583
Balboa Press rev. date: 03/17/2020
Contents
Chapter 1 Four Little Girls
Chapter 2 Constant Fighting
Chapter 3 Hillbilly Life
Chapter 4 Daddy’s Plan
Chapter 5 A New Life
Chapter 6 Up Terror Gulch
Chapter 7 See the Children Crying
Chapter 8 Shattered
Chapter 9 Our Own Lives
Chapter 10 Better Than Christmas
Chapter 11 Family Reunion
Chapter 12 My Family Complete
Chapter 13 After All These Years
Chapter 14 Grandma’s Prayer
Chapter 15 Yellow Roses
Chapter 16 A Letter from Heaven
Chapter 17 Writing My Manuscript
Chapter 18 The Only One
Chapter 19 Full Circle
Chapter 20 Perspectives
Chapter 21 I Hope You’re the One
Chapter 22 A Boy and His Flower
39267.pngChapter 1
Four Little Girls
Childhood struggles provoked feelings of low self-esteem, low self-confidence, as well as feelings of inadequacy. Then I wondered, Would I ever feel any sort of self-worth?
Since I never really dealt with the wounds from my childhood, I realized that until I did, I would be unheard and unhealed.
Memories of my father flooded my mind, which prompted me to find my photo album. I rummaged through my cedar chest and found it. I sat on my bed, got comfortable and began turning the pages.
My seventeen-year-old daughter, Rachel, entered my bedroom and asked what I was doing. I’m just looking at photos from my childhood.
I responded. Isn’t this a picture of your father, Mom?
She asked, as she pointed to the photo.
Yes, and someday I’d like to take you and your brothers to go to the place where I grew up in Idaho. You would have loved knowing your grandfather. Here, look at this picture of him standing with me and my sisters,
as I handed it to her.
He looks tall. Weren’t you the tallest of all your sisters, Mom?
She asked. Yes, and you’re getting to be taller than me,
I replied, as I hugged her.
Can we go to the mall? I would like it to be just you and me, all right?
She asked. Sure, that would be nice.
I answered, as I closed my photo album.
Just then, the phone rang. Rachel rushed for it. Mom, it’s for you. It’s some woman named Leesha,
she said, as she covered the phone with her hand and handed it to me.
Hello,
I said. Hi, this is Leesha, your cousin in Kentucky and I’m calling to let you know that your mother, Loretta, is in the hospital.
My curiosity was peaked. How did you get my phone number?
I asked. From your Mother’s Day card that you sent her last month. I’m sure the cancer is taking its toll on her, but recently she’s been very ill with bronchitis and is on oxygen. That, plus she hasn’t been eating very well and has lost a lot of weight.
She clarified.
She had a sharp hillbilly accent as I once did years ago coming from those Kentucky hills, but long since lost.
She is? What happened? Is it her cancer?
My mind was racing with questions. What do you mean?
I felt there was something deeper here than just bronchitis.
Apparently, Loretta and her stepfather, Jack, were living together in Jack’s home. The people from Meals on Wheels came by and noticed that they hadn’t been eating for days and now they’re both in the hospital.
She answered.
How long have they been in the hospital?
I inquired. Since May 16.
She replied, then pleaded with me to get there as soon as I could in case she died.
As she said those alarming words, tears swelled up inside me and I felt like crying a little. I so desperately wanted to see my mother. It had been five years since our last trip out there. I knew that she had breast cancer back in 1992, some seven years ago, but recently learned that she never received any treatments other than the medications that the doctor prescribed.
I realized the seriousness of this and paused for a moment to allow this dreadful news to sink in.
I thanked her for calling me and told her that I would contact my sisters and get to Kentucky as soon as possible.
As soon as I got off the phone, I explained the situation to my children and apologized to my daughter, hoping that she would understand why I couldn’t spend time with her just yet. I helped her understand that I needed to spend some time with my mother before she died. These concerns must have shown on my face, because Rachel looked at me and said, That’s okay Mom, your mother needs you right now and we can spend time with each other when you get back.
I hugged her, thanked her for understanding and started making travel arrangements.
I called my oldest sister, Scarlet, who lived in Washington, and told her the news. Unfortunately, she lived with her controlling and abusive boyfriend and he wasn’t about to let her leave. I got him on the phone and proceeded to tell him off, but it was to no avail and it just made me frustrated. I decided to call her again later.
I then called my younger sister, Abigail, who lived in Idaho City, Idaho. She had not seen our mother in thirty-three years. She seemed somewhat reluctant and apprehensive though, so I talked her into it by explaining that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t make the trip and see her. She agreed and it worked out that she would arrive in Kentucky a few days before me on Thursday, June 10. That was okay, because she needed that one-on-one time with Mother to compensate for all the missed years of not being with her.
Lastly, I called Ruby, the youngest of my sisters and me, who lived in North Carolina. Being only ten hours away from Kentucky, it wouldn’t be quite so far for her to travel as the rest of us. Ruby said she could leave late on Friday night, June 11 and drive all night in order to arrive around 2 pm. on Saturday, June 12.
My husband had been in prison for three years, so when I got a chance, I let him know what was happening.
I knew that our kids were all old enough to be okay on their own, which made it easier for me not to worry about leaving them.
On Friday, June 11, I had my 19-year-old son, Adam; drive me from where we lived in Bellmead, Texas to the airport in Dallas, two hours away.
I said goodbye as I hugged him, then hurried to catch my flight at 6:30 a.m.
My flight would land in Atlanta, Georgia. From there, I would catch a smaller plane to Knoxville, Tennessee where my sister, Abigail, would meet me.
After my plane was in the air, I relaxed, tilted my seat back, closed my eyes and began reflecting upon all the events in my life up to this point. My mind began to drift back to my parents.
My father, Thomas Holden, was born to Blake and Lilly Shook in Boise, Idaho on November of 1931.
A few years later, Daddy would soon know what it was like to lose a mother.
Ava, her sister, was born in 1933 and then two years later, Lilly gave birth to Claire in the spring of 1935.
Lilly died of typhoid fever at the young age of about twenty-four when daddy was only four years old. Claire also was diagnosed with the disease and died when she was a year old.
Without a mother, Daddy spend much of his school years in Eagle, Idaho as well as Tacoma Washington where his first cousin lived, whose name was Leonora. She was daddy’s Aunt on Lilly’s side. She played a positive role in helping to raise my father.
While in high school in Eagle, Idaho, he used to take his friends for rides in his car. My first cousin, Stella, remembers when she was five years old and riding in the car with him and his friends. She was the one who would pass notes back and forth to everyone in the car. My dad made her feel special being with him and his friends. He used to walk her home from school. I am so glad that I found her, so she could share this story with me.
My father was a young, handsome, hardworking man known for his big hands. His large six-foot two-inch frame seemed a giant to each of my sisters and me. Everyone knew him for not only his strength and good work habits, but also his good character. However, anyone that knew him also knew that he would only take so much guff from any man. His fists were like two boxcars rolling out of control once he got angry. Fortunately, his good nature outweighed his strength in those rare cases and he never killed anyone.
Our mother’s name was Loretta and she was born in November of 1938 in Somerset, Kentucky. Somerset was a coal-mining town.
Loretta was petite and only five foot three inches tall. She was the second of two children born to Garrett and Josie Mae.
Loretta and her older brother, Stanley, would soon pass through the loss of a parent in their childhood. Garrett, their father, worked in the Fayette-Somerset coalmine and died in 1938. Apparently, a motor fell and crushed him beneath. His death was suspicious; since he fought to have the union help the miners receive full pay and implement fair work conditions for the miners. Loretta was only three years old.
In need of a husband and a father for her children, Grandma Mae soon married a wonderful man named, Jack Ensley and together they had a third child named Leon.
My mother grew up in Kentucky, but I never learned of any childhood stories other than she and her brother were close.
Mae, Jack and their daughter, Loretta soon moved to Lovelock, Nevada when Loretta was about sixteen years old. They moved there, because Jack got tired of the dangers in the Kentucky coalmines. He started work in the Kennecott Ward mine just outside of Lovelock.
Daddy was also the first man that Jack met on his first day at his new job. He looked over and saw that Daddy was somewhat lonesome like he was. He walked up to Daddy and introduced himself by saying, You look as lonely as I am and today’s my birthday!
They soon became best friends.
Jack asked Daddy why he limped a little when he walked. Daddy said that when he worked on a ranch for the actor, Jimmy Stewart, in the past, a horse stepped on his foot and caused him to limp.
Eventually, as Jack began to know Daddy, he described Daddy as a hard headed miner, a good person and nothing phased him.
Grandpa Jack would say, You’ll never find a greater man.
Jack remembered Daddy telling him once, I know one day that I will die working in a mine.
Jack introduced Daddy to his daughter, Loretta. They went steady for a time and eventually married on June of 1954 when Daddy was working for the railroad there in Lovelock. He was 23 years old and Loretta was only 16.
Loretta’s brother, Stanley, married a woman, named Delilah, in 1957 and she became our aunt. She was from Lovelock, Nevada, but Stanley was from Kentucky. Their marriage grew strained though because our aunt couldn’t deal with her hillbilly husband.
Our parents were just short of three years married, when Scarlet was born in March of 1957. She was premature and only weighed four and a half pounds, but fortunately, the White Pine County hospital just received their first incubators. She looked like a little papoose with her darker skin, dark curly hair and dark brown eyes. They brought her home in a shoebox and dressed her in doll clothes.
Daddy named her Scarlet and as she grew, she began to look like a cute Shirley Temple.
At first, Loretta was very protective of Scarlet. She didn’t trust anyone else to hold her little doll-child, so she carried her on her hip as she did her housework. As Scarlet gained weight and got a little older, the luster of being a new mother began to dim under its required labors, toting her everywhere stopped and her little curious-minded elf needed watching constantly.
Scarlet slipped away undetected one evening while Mother was preparing supper before Daddy came home from work. Scarlet was nowhere around when Daddy arrived. After a quick search of the house and yard, an extended frantic search of the area brought a last-minute rescue from where she was playing. She had wandered onto the train tracks with a train coming. Daddy snatched her out of its path just in time. She was too young to know that she did anything wrong, but she still got a spanking. A guardian angel was watching over her that day.
My life began in January of 1959. I weighed six pounds and one ounce. I was born with light brown hair, light complexion and dark brown eyes.
Mother said that I was a pretty baby. I am the second of four siters. My father chose to name me, Jasmine. I soon gained the nickname of chipmunk cheeks
since my cheeks were so noticable.
Just over a month after I was born, our mother conceived again for her last time, but this time she was carrying twins.
In November of 1959, Abigail and Ruby were born, making all three of us born in the same year. They too were premature and the birth came very close to killing Mother.
Abigail was the first born of the twins and was able to come home when Mother left