My Bully, My Aunt, & Her Final Gift (eBook)

Harold Phifer (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
136 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-7998-5 (ISBN)

Infos

'Sometimes the death of a Love One can fix your pain.' A Funeral that turned into a Comedy show. The death of Hal's evil aunt taught me a lot about grief, love, lost, resentments, and redemptions. 'After the passing of Hal's evil aunt, the pastor attempts to ease her past the Pearlie Gates regardless of her past misdeeds. Hal's attitude is totally different than the reverend. But the pastor needs Hal's full support in order to pull off his caper.' Will she get routed to heaven or hell? It's a story far from being grim with laughter til the end.

Harold Phifer was born and raised in Columbus, Mississippi. A graduate of Mississippi State University and Jackson State University, Harold served 23 years as an air traffic controller with the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). In 2010, he left the United States to work as an international contractor, completing multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan before being reassigned to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Following a near-death experience in Afghanistan, he found inspiration to write his first book, 'Sleepwalking Out of Afghanistan: Walking it All Back'. He continued his journey as an author with 'Surviving Chaos: How I Found Peace at a Beach Bar', a two-part memoir detailing his resilience.

Textauszug

Good Morning Hal

Sometimes forever isn’t long enough!

It was a frosty spring morning in Kabul, Afghanistan. This was ground zero for the Taliban, yet I never felt so free. Fear for others, but peace for me. I was alone and in my own headspace. The cars, horns, stench of sewage, and Islamic morning calls to prayer beckon my attention. Well, no longer did I mind, because the rituals were my clock. The chants came day after day, same time, and same place. Meantime, people and goats made their way to fields, markets, and work. Of course, that was as normal as any other dusty day in a war-torn country.

Sad, because the animals had no voice. Life was a flip of the coin for grass, garbage, or grease. Yet, with any luck, they got to pig out with the trash instead of dinner on a skewer. Even the locals walked a fine line but to nobody’s envy. They were determined and driven, with plenty of needs to go around. Their missions rarely changed. It was always constant and consistent as of yesteryear, yesterday, today, and any time going forward. Their struggles were real and imperative to survive. Food on the table wasn’t a given. So, those cadences of hustle, bustle, and all other distractions were chaotic but never a bother. I really didn’t mind. You see, I was still above ground and able for duty.

However, it was a different kind of day. Old-fashioned gospels blared from my Apple device. Wait a minute! Those tunes weren’t my natural flavor. But somehow, someway, spirituals were loaded into my playlist. It had to be an omen, but why? I didn’t remember doing such a thing. Meantime, I turned off the music and crashed into my pillow.

Something abnormal had taken place in my cyberspace! Then suddenly, right on cue, the phone rang. I let out a groan, rolled over, and reached for that cellular. Man, I couldn’t reach the noise while that buzz continued. Desperately, I cleared books, pens, and a clock off the nightstand. I was willing to do anything to kill that ring.

Finally, my I-phone found me and saved destruction to my accommodation. Unfortunately, it was the least of my problems. Someone from Butt-Fuck, Mississippi had my number, and I knew it. Maybe a beggar or scammer had broken through, which made me exposed and on the spot.

Begrudgingly, I took the call and disguised my voice. Being hacked was my assumption, so I readied myself for the challenged.

A gentleman spoke up and proclaimed he was the famous Pastor Keith of Columbus, Mississippi. If true, I needed to stop and give all reverence to the caller. My head was swimming! “Oh wow! Could it possibly be the guy, the man, ‘The Spirit of The South?’”

“Brother Hal, how are you?” That was a familiar tone. Still, I needed to be sure. No one ever called me “Hal” except close boyhood friends. No way anyone else could’ve known that. Plus, I hadn’t spoken to the pastor since I lost my mother three years ago! “Sir, I’m dealing, and things are OK.” Of course, I lied. I wasn’t on solid footing. I was a man without a family living in a war-torn country. Not only did I work in a hellhole, but Afghanistan was also my refuge. I was sustaining…but not living…life.

Still, I needed to be certain, so I threw a curveball to the caller just to be positive. “Sir, who are you and how did you get this number?” I didn’t want to confess to someone who in fact didn’t know me. Lord knows, I was deeply embedded in sin. No way I wanted such details out in the public.

“Brother, brother Hal, I couldn’t locate any other members of your family, so this obligation fell on me.”

That disclosure gave the stranger a unique piece of authenticity. For sure, my two brothers were as irresponsible as stray cats. Their only purpose in life were ganja, grass, and gusto.

Jerry was the oldest amongst us. He purposely took the lion share of all things good while karma graced him with the bad. Booze was his protector and enemy. Yet, he didn’t give a damn to know the difference.

Tommy was the youngest and a brat on the run. First, being poor and spoiled were an oxymoron regardless how you slice it. Second, Tommy wasn’t anyone to count on. His allegiance was in line with the bottle and blow more than anything else.

Sad, but nothing else mattered to my two siblings except a hit and a swallow. Even words of Mom’s death came from a friend and not a family member, so the Caller indeed had tall legs to stand on.

“Okay! Continue Reverend.” I had no choice but to listen to the news.

“Your Aunt Kathy got called home to Glory last night.” For that moment, I said nothing more. I couldn’t; I was just stunned; Aunt Kathy had actually moved on to another dimension! It finally happened! That lady was damn near invincible! She had survived assaults, coronaries, fevers, famines, flus, floods, plagues, pandemics, strokes, and global warming for almost 100 years. I’m willing to bet she outlived the Ice Age, but there’s no way to confirm it. If anyone told the devil “You’re a Lie,” it was Aunt Kathy. She just had a way of coming back and back like a sequel to a never-ending horror story. Whenever she fell ill, she reappeared as a new being more hostile than the previous entity.

Aunt Kathy was the most dedicated Christian I had ever known. She would give God the glory for everything in her day-to-day existence. Yet, it was her connections to society that put my personal faith in troubled waters. I had never been around such a mixed bag of Christianity and evil. Because of my experiences with Aunt Kathy, I didn’t know whether to fear God or fear the Devil. I was always lost and confused. However, I learned for damn sure, Aunt Kathy had to be reckoned with and should never be taken for granted! Fearing Aunt Kathy gave me a fifty percent chance of being right about God and a fifty percent chance of being wrong about the Devil. Not only did she revel in God’s grace, she also frequently spoke of meeting Jesus in the afterlife. To me, Aunt Kathy was bitter to be alive and happy if she died. She accused the family of dragging her down and standing in the way of her blessings. But that wasn’t all! She’d say, “I’ve got to be ready when the Lord calls me home” and “I got to prepare to leave here.” With arrogance and contempt, Aunt Kathy frequently placed the family beneath her and her world. Heaven was just a hole punch away.

The Pastor went on to say, “I know how much your aunt meant to you and the family. She really tried to direct you guys from little grunts to young men. She was determined to make you all a pillar of Columbus and the Southside community. The congregation felt that love delivered by Sister Kathy!”

Instantly, the pendulum had swung! The Pastor was really pouring it on thick and heavy. I wished he hadn’t gone that far. He was suddenly dumpster diving for something I never possessed. So immediately, I assumed it was a prank call! Or even worse, an imposter trying to punk me. Who would do such a thing? No doubt my family, Zion Gate Union Baptist, and the Southside community needed relief from Aunt Kathy’s dastardly ways. But this was a cruel joke to a sordid degree! The praises dealt by the Pastor forced me to stop and abruptly rest my phone on the coffee table. Out of decency, I didn’t want to dry heave in the ear of that Trickster. If he was indeed delivering the solemn news, his invitation should’ve been for a fireworks celebration on the church grounds. A spell had been lifted and joy returned to Columbus.

Yes, I was related to Aunt Kathy, but the rest of the Reverend’s comments had to be for another parishioner. This lady only had love for my brother Jerry, Pastor Keith, and God. Other than God, I wouldn’t know how to rank her order of affections. Aunt Kathy had no children of her own, and it showed. Throughout my life, she never showed love for any other niece, nephew, or her baby sister, which was Mom. As for friends and associates, well, they were all heathens according to my aunt. She lathered them all with pure damnations behind the scenes. So, if the stranger was truly the fabulous Pastor Keith, he read me the wrong script.

Fortunately, my mom preceded Aunt Kathy in death. I couldn’t help but imagine the trauma she would’ve displayed had she been alive. She might have dipped into a schizophrenic rage at the loss of her dear sister. Aunt Kathy was Mom’s only link to the real world. On-the-other-hand, I saw my aunt as a poor bridge to life for anyone. Due to Mom’s condition, she would attack “The Walls” from sun-up to sun-down and day after day due to her mental paranoia. With the death of her sister, no barrier, partition, fence, or any standing surface would’ve been safe. That kind of trauma would’ve created an endless loop of rages such as: “Oh no! Oh no! Not my sister, you Devil Ass Dawg! Oh Jesus, those Dead Dawg have come and taken my sister away! Help me Jesus! Help me get those Dawg out of my house! Lawd, I can’t take these Dawg howling anymore! Lawd Jesus, bring her back! Lawd, bring her back!”

Of course, I would’ve been the lone pigeon...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 30.1.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-7998-5 / 9798350979985