In Touch With His Soul

An Interview With Walden Welch,

An Important American Psychic

By Gina Cerminara

Part Five

 Mean Miss Daisy

WW:  "When I returned home, I had hopes that Guy's and my relationship might better, for the last time I had seen him was the time he was affectionate with me prior to Mom's surgery. However, this was not to be the case. Actually things became harder between us. I think this was because his son, Bucky, had come to live with him. He worshipped and adored that boy. Bucky could do no wrong. The truth was, Bucky was just about the most hyper and difficult kid one could ever hope NOT to know! He had a mean streak, which was unbelievable. He was always throwing tantrums or breaking things or arguing. Strangely enough Guy thought that was cute. I mean he worshipped that boy! Had I behaved like Bucky, Guy would have no doubt killed me. Somehow or other, Bucky and I managed to get along most of the time. In retrospect, I now realize he really wasn't that bad. He was just a kid, a normal innocent kid. I was the strange one to be sure. In comparison to him, I was one hundred years old! I think that's what the problem was between us; I behaved too maturely. I didn't know how to be a kid. However, he did have some horrible mean streaks. For instance, he loved to torment Mom by saying, 'I hope you die! I hate you and hope you die! You're not going to get this house if my dad dies! It's all going to be mine. I want you and Wally to leave!' Obviously, his mother had put the suspicion in his mind that Mom was going to rob him of his inheritance. Mom would do her best to try and convince him that she loved him as equally as she did me. She was very tolerant and loving towards him. How he could have hurt her so much was beyond me. I never once saw Guy hit him. Bucky would do the meanest damn things, like breaking dozens of eggs so he wouldn't have to clean them and could go out and play instead. Guy would find the broken eggs and then beat the hell out of me, knowing full well I hadn't done it. It was crazy! 

"Bucky and I were in the same class together at school, but ran around with different friends, or I should say he did, for I only had Joanie as a close friend. The three of us never did anything together. Joan and I would visit each other everyday after school, sit beside each other during class, and spend every moment we could together. I actually read my first astrology book at Joanie's home. Elsie, her mother, had a copy of 'The Bowl Of Heaven' by Evangeline Adams in her small library. Joanie and I would take turns reading chapters of it to each other. I'm sure we couldn't have understood much of what we read because of our young ages, yet the book totally fascinated me. However, our usual game playing consisted of playing horses. Joanie had an obsession with horses, especially Golden Palominos. More than anything in this world her dream was to own a Golden Palomino. Actually, I think her dream was to be one. (Laugh) She would always play the part of the palomino and I would play the part of whatever horse she assigned for me to play. It was always so easy to buy Christmas and birthday presents for her. Naturally, I would always buy her some form of a Golden Palomino be it a statue, a print or a toy. She had palominos all over her bedroom!  Every Sunday morning she and I would go to church together as well. She would gallop there with me along side her!"

Dr: "Was Joan Catholic too?"

WW: "I don't know. I don't think so. Actually, I think I mislead you into thinking I was a Catholic. It's true Mom and her family were, but in truth I went to a different church or synagogue each week. You see: my parents, Bud and Mom, had made an agreement with each other that I would be sent to churches of all faiths until I was 18 years old. At that time, I would then be allowed to choose my own faith. Therefore, Joanie and I went to various churches at random. I always liked the Catholic Church because of its opulence and majesty, the statues of The Saints, lighting of the candles and all. I truly thought that God and Jesus lived within the walls of the Catholic Church. I guess this was because of its opulence. I would gather up the nerve to open doors to hallways and confession booths to see if either of them was inside. I also became tremendously fond of Judaism, too. Knowing my mother was ill, the Jewish ladies would make over me, feed me, hug me. Naturally they felt sorry for me, and I just ate up the attention. Plus, I began to understand the atrocities they, as a culture of people, had been put through. My heart broke for them and I more than sympathized with all the agony they had been forced to suffer. It was, and is, unimaginable that such an atrocity as The Holocaust could ever have taken place. I also had a reoccurring nightmare throughout my childhood: of being on a wooden ship and locked in a dark and lightless room below the deck. On the ceiling above me, I can hear the sounds of boots marching or running. All I can see is a little stream of light coming through a crack on a wooden door. Suddenly I feel icy cold water beneath me. It quickly rises and begins to cover my mouth. At this point in my dream I would begin screaming and crying. I know I am about to drown, that I am a Russian Jewish boy about five years old and that I am being held in the prison or cell of a ship and that the ship is sinking. Next I feel the arms of a young girl hugging me to her as tightly as she can. She is  trying to comfort me. Instinctively I know she is my sister yet I cannot see her nor do I know what her name is. I know that we are dying together and as the water reaches my face I begin to panic and scream.

"I had this dream throughout my early childhood. It finally stopped when I was around twelve years old. I now realize it was a past life dream, of course, a dream of one of my past lives and of a traumatic moment that has not been erased from my super conscious mind. I now know, too, that the little girl who was hugging me and who drowned with me was Joanie·that is, Joanie in a previous lifetime. That is no doubt why we bonded so closely in this present lifetime. We returned to each other, in the current lifetime as friends and neighbors, and our two souls subconsciously recognized one another. We were as close as any loving brother and sister could be.

"Well, anyway, that's why I had such sympathy and empathy for Jews. My poor grandmother almost had a heart attack when I told her, at age seven, that I wanted to convert to Judaism! (Laugh) I didn't, of course. Due to my, I think, remarkable spiritual upbringing, I encompassed all my religious training into one faith. I like to think of my faith as True Christianity or Original Christianity."

Dr: "Walden Welch, you absolutely stun me! How is it that you can jump from one riveting situation to another as if you were saying, 'Pass the salt, please?' First you take me on an inspirational journey to 'The Pearly Gates' of Heaven; next you rip my heart out with your remembrances of sleeping along side your dog in her doghouse, and the drowning of her puppies. And then, in the next breath you relate how your soul steps out of your body as if it's the most natural thing for it to do! And now you slip into a conversation about one of your prior lifetimes? Do you realize what a wonder you are? Your metaphysical experiences are an encyclopedia of marvels! This interview with you is a parapsychologists dream come true!"

WW: "Or a psychiatrists? I still think you're out to expose me as a schizoid?"

Dr: "I wouldn't want to do that. The interview would not be so informative or fascinating."

WW: "Don't think I didn't wonder, during my teenage years, if I was a schizophrenic. The fear of having this condition passed my mind on many occasions, I can assure you. It's a terrifying thing to suddenly realize you are never going to be like other people, no matter how much you may want to be. It's like discovering your gay and think there isn't anyone else in the world that is, and if there are others somewhere out there who are also gay; does anyone love them? Does anyone accept them? It's a loneliness and fear of being rejected for something you can't help but be. The vast majority of society cannot, or choose not to, want to accept or understand the gay person. The same came be said for 'The Psychic'. I believe that when a person makes the discovery that they are psychic, or clairvoyant, or whatever one wishes to call them, it is much the same as if one comes to discover that they are gay. They may not wish to be gay for they are aware that society is, by majority opinion, morally against them. Yet, they do not know how not to be gay, for gay is what they are. Despite the disapproval of the majority, they know they are incapable of changing what they are. Therefore, in order to be accepted, or loved, by the 'normal society' the gay person is forced to wear a social disguise and masquerade as a person he is not. To live a shadow life and never be allowed to be that truth which he is, or be accepted for what is his 'normal' manner of loves expression and fulfillment. How pathetic for him to be socially forced into that prison. So, in order to survive he must seek out others who understand him, or those who share his difference of lifestyle.  Yet, he is always living a double life. Reason being? He wishes to be accepted, loved, and respected. He wants the same acceptance we all want. The gay person does not want to be called a 'faggot', a 'pervert' or 'a queer' or any other name that suggests he is a freak of both nature and society. He, like anyone else, wants to be respected for his attributes, talents, achievements and intelligence, just like anyone else. He certainly does not want to be thought of only as a sexual act or sexual being or a mentally ill sexual deviant! Yet he knows that the mass majority of society cannot, or chooses not, to want to accept or understand him and his differences.

"When one discovers that he is psychic, his emotional experience is much like, or perhaps exactly like, that which the gay person must endure. The psychic person also knows that the vast majority of society will also shun him, call him names - 'a freak', 'mentally ill.' 'Normal Society' is uncomfortable to be in his company. They cannot, or choose not, to understand or accept his differences. They do not wish others to know that they know him. The psychic is, therefore, also socially unacceptable. Also, the psychic, much like the gay person, is discriminated against in The Bible. 'Beware of false Prophets!' There are also the references of witches, warlocks, devil worshippers, and the like. So, the Psychic is also forced to seek a shadow life. He, too, must masquerade as two different entities in order to be socially loved and accepted. He is never allowed to be truly who he is. Therefore, like the gay person, he seeks to find the company of those who can, or wish, to understand him, or those who share his differences.

"It's not easy being 'different'. It is not easy at all. But, eventually, with time one comes to an acceptance of being that which he is and accepts the things he cannot change, and goes on with his journey through life trying to be the very best of who he can be considering the cards he has been dealt. Kermit the Frog certainly had it right when he sang, "It's Not Easy Being Green!" 

Dr: "Sadly but beautifully put. Do you consider it to be a burden being a professional psychic/astrologer?

WW: "No, not at all. I did at the beginning of my career, but it is an accepted part of my life and being now. I have adjusted to my title and am now more than appreciative of my abilities. It was only hard at the very beginning when I wanted to be 'just like everybody else.' I know my clients love and appreciate me for what I am able to give them. Yet, I have to admit that when I am out and about with others who do not know who I am or what I do, I never tell them I'm an astrologer. I usually say I'm a real estate salesman or sometimes I say I'm a photographer. It's is easier to be accepted when one is ordinary." 

Dr:  "However, do remember that ordinary people rarely inspire or promote intelligence and progress. Unusual people are always pioneers for those to follow. They pave the way to understanding and thus acceptance.

"It was in your teenage years you realized your differences? You had no idea you were unusually different during these pre-teen years?"

WW: "A little, perhaps, but not really. Mom always made me seem somewhat remarkable. She made me feel 'bright', I think. A good example of this would be the time a priest came to our house to visit her. This was after she became bedridden. She told him of the incident where I had the visitation with the spirit of my great grandfather and his promise to me that Mom would not die. Mom loved telling that story. She found it awe-inspiring. Well, after the priest was told he said to her, 'The Devil works in mysterious ways and is never to be trusted!' Mom then said to him, 'Father! When a little boy is on his knees praying to God that his mother does not die and God sends the spirit of his mother's grandfather to prophesize that she will NOT die·and she DOES NOT DIE·that spirit comes from God and NOT from the Devil. I send my son to church to learn that there is no death; that when a person dies his soul goes on to heaven. Well, what is a ghost but a soul, which has been severed from the body at death? It is a soul and nothing more and I will not have my son to be led to believe otherwise!'

"So, you see? Mom made these psychic happenings of mine appear to be sensible and rational. Therefore, I really didn't know I was different. Also during this period of our lives she started reading "The Power Of Positive Thinking" by Dr. Norman Vincent Peal. It was a best selling book at that time. She was obviously looking for reason for her situation in life and some faith and inspiration to help pull her through it. She read me parts of that book everyday with hopes it would give me faith and courage to face the things I feared. She also gave me a little ball made of crystal with a mustard seed inlaid inside to carry with me in my pocket everywhere I went. It had to do with something in the book that said, 'putting ones faith and trust in the mustard seed and all things would be made possible.' She wore one as a pendant, too. I know she knew what a hard time I was going through and she was trying to give me all the faith she could that all this, these hard times, would pass if I could just hold on and believe. That is what she was doing·holding on with faith. With her invalid physical situation, lack of money, etc. there was just no way out for us at this present time - not at least until she became well again. She was also aware that I was becoming ill more often, emotionally rather than physically ill, that is. I think she was very frightened for me."

Dr: "I hadn't realized you had been sick as a child."

WW: "No, I always had good physical health. I did have the typical childhood diseases like measles and chicken pox. My first sickness was Whooping Cough when I was five. I contacted that in San Francisco after I ran away from Les and was found by the police on the Golden Gate Bridge in the rain. My only other bout with a health problem was when I was in the Fourth Grade. I had some strange knee problem. My right knee had to be put in a cast for about one year. I forget the name of this disease, but it was somewhat like Rickets. Bone beneath the kneecap on my right leg was not hardening, as it should. It was a very painful condition. It felt as if needles were being stuck into my kneecap. However, it did heal after a while and I have had no deformity. Capricorn Rules the knees. Did you know that? It is not at all unusual for Capricorns to have knee problems. Something else has occurred to me. It was not until I was an adult that I realized I might have been having an emotional or nervous breakdown during that period of my life. Perhaps I was, but was too young to realize this was happening to me. Psychology certainly was not as popular then as it is today."

Dr: "You certainly had good cause to. What now makes you look backwards in time and assume you may have?"

WW: "Several behavioral patterns would certainly indicate so. For instance, I suddenly began to become very sick to my stomach during class. This sickness began to occur almost everyday. The school nurse would check me over and find nothing to indicate I had an illness, yet my symptoms were so severe she would release to go home early every time I complained. Finally the school called in a child psychologist to examine me. Her name was Harriett Raab. I recall that she was a very kind and fascinating woman who also happened to be a color therapist. What she discovered was that my schoolroom was painted in a drab shade of apple green, which was typical of all schoolrooms in those days. Apple green was also the color used in hospital room interiors. She concluded that I associated my schoolroom with the hospitals Mom was so often confined to. The school district then had my room painted a creamy yellow hue. From that day on I never again became sick while attending school. I believe that Mrs. Raab went on to become a rather famous pioneer in the field of color therapy. It's my understanding that she was the person who first began the color scheme changes in hospitals, schools, airline terminals etc., as she understood the psychological affects colors have in influencing the psychological moods of the human mind"

Dr: " Just Think! You may have been the first significant person responsible for this major breakthrough!"

WW: "Perhaps. Who knows? It would be nice to think so."

Dr: "Was Mrs. Raab your therapist for long?"

WW: "Oh, no. She just interviewed me for a few hours one day. She had me color pictures, that sort of thing. It wasn't a big deal. She finally diagnosed me as being in a state of depression. (Laugh) Hell! I could have told HER that! She was alarmed that I painted rainy days, black clouds and gray houses. "Colors of depression," she said. Had I known then what I know now I could have taught her a thing or two!"

Dr: "What's that?"

WW: "That Capricorn is the Sign most susceptible to depression. Also, Capricorn rules somber and morose colors such as black, gray, dark browns and other such winter colors. So what could be more natural than for me to have a love for gloomy colors and a much too serious and negative mind?"

Dr: "Very good! (Laugh) It was in the stars!"

WW: "Yes·it was in the stars.

"Seriously though, in looking back, I do indeed think that everything became beyond my coping with at that time in my life. I functioned as usual. I did my daily chores, took care of Mom and the household matters, went to school, all this remained the same. But inwardly I was terribly, terribly frightened. I call this period of my life the 'I'll see you in the morning' period of my life."

Dr: "'I'll see you in the morning?' What does this imply?"

WW: "I suddenly developed the compulsion of having to say this phrase every night before retiring to bed. I'd kiss Mom goodnight and say; 'I'll see you in the morning Mom.' I wouldn't leave her bedside until she would answer me by saying, 'Yes, Sweetie. I'll see you in the morning."

Dr: "I can easily understand this ritual. You felt that if she told you that she would see you in the morning that she would live through the night and be there for you the next morning?"

WW: "Yes, exactly. And I recall that in the winter of 1954 she contacted double pneumonia and had to be hospitalized for several weeks. Guy was away from home a great deal of the time due to his job as a railroad engineer, so Bucky and I took care of everything ourselves while Guy was away. On the nights Guy was gone I would sleep on the floor in the closet of Mom's room. The smell and feel of her clothes would bring comfort to me while she was away."

Bucky

Dr: "Of course it did! Nothing is more intimate than one's clothing. This is a common situation for those who have lost loved ones. They can't release clothing or other personal items of the deceased. It's something for them to cling to, to remember them by, perhaps to keep them still alive in memory by scents as well as by touch."

WW: "And then, after Mom returned home, I became terrified of leaving our house and of seeing strange or new places. I would go directly to school and home again. Joanie and I usually walked to and from school together. However, I recall that it rained one day and that I had to take the school bus home. I boarded the bus and looked for Joanie, but she was not aboard. The bus left the schoolyard when suddenly I realized it was driving in the wrong direction. I saw houses and neighborhoods I had never seen before. I panicked and became hysterical. The bus driver had to return me to the school and a teacher drove me home. After that it was all Mom could do to make me leave the house or our property boundaries. The only exception I would make was to go visit Ken and Sue and, of course, Joan. I would not stray from my usual boundaries.  I didn't want to leave Mom's bedside for a moment. She would have to force me to go outside to play; convince me she was fine and didn't need me. My insecurities just got worse and worse."

Dr: "Was there finally a breaking point where everything snapped causing situations and circumstances to change?"

WW: "A moment when crisis precipitates change?"

Dr: "Well put! Yes, there is always a moment when something happens which changes the pattern of situations we are unable to handle."

WW: "That moment did come, but it did not create the change which I would have wanted for me, or for Mom. What occurred on that day remains one of my saddest memories.  It is a day I wish I could take back and erase forever.  The crisis, which would change our lives and circumstances forever, happened at a later date. The first of these two crises, which perpetuated change in our lives, was a senseless and a tragic one. It should never have happened." 

Dr: "Then I think it would be of great importance if you would share that with me. It may be pertinent to this interview. Would you mind doing that?"

WW: "Very well. Unless one has ever had experience with working around chickens, they wouldn't realize how mean some of them could be. Not 'mean' really, I should have said protective and defensive. Taking their eggs from their nests is to them the same as stealing kittens from their mothers. After all, hatched eggs would be their children, so their protectiveness of their eggs is totally understandable. In order to protect their eggs some hen's will actually chase you, peck you or even fly towards you, claws extended. I was always very afraid of the defensive hens. The one I feared most of all was Miss Mean Daisy, as Bucky and I called her. Bucky hated her as much as I feared her. I would always put off collecting her eggs until the very last. One morning he and I were making our usual egg collection when I noticed Miss Daisy was not in her nest. Happily surprised, I began collecting her eggs as hurriedly as possible lest she return and catch me. I said to Bucky, 'Hey, what luck! Mean Daisy isn't in her nest. Keep an eye out for her.' 'Don't worry about her anymore,' he replied. 'I wrung her neck and killed her. She won't bother us ever again.' I told him Guy 'would kill us' if he finds out! To which Bucky smugly replied, 'Don't worry about that. There are so damn many chickens in here he won't even miss her. Besides, I hid her body in the weeds behind the chicken house where he will never find her.'

"Next I went into the pump house and began my daily duty of buffing the eggs and packing them into crates. Guy walked in and asked me where Bucky was, so I told him he was still in the chicken house collecting eggs. Guy left me to find him. A few minutes later I could hear Guy yelling and cussing as loud as he could. He was in his angriest voice, of which I knew well. I panicked that perhaps I had done something wrong and he was mad at me, so I decided to run off somewhere and hide before he came back. I had barely gotten outside the shed door when suddenly Guy grabbed me by the neck. He was so mad he was shaking. His face was red from rage. I think this was the angriest I had ever seen him. I was so terrified I could hardly breath, but I managed to ask, 'What have I done?' My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode! He pushed me back into the shed and commanded me to get him a shovel. There were several in the shed, so I asked him: 'Do you want a spade or what kind?' He slapped me on the side of my head and said, 'God damn you! Do what I said! Hand me a shovel!' So I grabbed one and he took it from my hand. 'Please tell me what I've done?' I asked. He didn't answer me. Instead he again grabbed me by my neck and pulled me along side him as he walked towards the hen house. 'There's a God damned chicken killer around here', he said. It was then I knew what his rage was about. He had discovered the chicken Bucky had killed. 'There is nothing worse than a God damned chicken killer!' he snarled.

"Bucky was standing behind the hen house. He was motionless and appeared to be frozen. It was obvious he was as frightened as I was. Crotched down on the ground by his feet was Brutus. I gasped when I saw that he had been eating the dead chicken. He had both blood and white feathers in his mouth. He looked up at me with both guilt and confusion in his eyes. Guy yelled, 'There is NOTHING worse than a chicken killer! Once they get a taste for blood they never stop killing! Damned dog!' And then, unbelievably, Guy raised the shovel high above his head then with all his might he slammed the spade flat upon Brutus's backside. My poor dog had the most heart breaking and pathetic expression on his face I had even seen. I will never forget how stunned and betrayed he looked. Neither he nor I could believe what was happening. I screamed out 'Stop it Guy! Stop it! Brutus didn't do it! Bucky did! Bucky killed the chicken! Tell him Bucky, he won't hit you!' But Bucky just stood there staring down at Brutus. I kept pleading with him to confess, but he remained motionless and silent. Once again Guy raised the shovel above his head to inflict yet another blow, but I quickly pulled Brutus by his collar screaming, 'Run Brutus! Run! Run!' The poor animal tried following my command, but he was so frightened and stunned he could only cower and whimper so I pulled him across the ground and away from Guy with all my strength. I then picked him up and tried to run to the safety of Mom who was in the house, but the dog was so heavy I only got as far as the back lawn before we fell. I tried picking him up again, but as I reached for him I felt Guy step on my back with his boot. He pressed me down upon the lawn flat on my belly. He put all of his weight upon my back and pinned me down between my shoulder blades. Brutus kept trying to drag himself towards his doghouse. I watched him as he would try to stand, then fall. I think his spine must have been broken. The next thing I recall was the blade of Guy's shovel slicing through my dog's head. Blood and body matter splattered everywhere! I watched, disbelievingly as his blood slowly oozed from his mouth onto the green lawn. His face was several feet away from mine and all I could say was: 'Brutus! Brutus!' I could tell he heard me because he looked towards the direction from which my voice came, but his eyes were so glazed he could not see. He kept trying to raise his head, but I do not think there was enough life left in him to do so. It is strange to say, despite all this senseless violence, the saddest moment of his death, which remains in my memory, was watching his tail wag as he listened to my voice. I knew he was dead when his head lay motionless on the ground and his tail stopped wagging.

"And then it happened again."

Dr: "What? What happened again?"

WW: "I left my body. Suddenly I was up in the sky looking down. I watched the four of us below. It all seemed so surreal. Everything looked just as it would look except that colors were so brilliant and dazzling. And it was so quiet where I now was, maybe like being in the eye of a tornado, yet I could hear the sounds from below with extreme clarity.  From above I watched my human body below cuddling the dog in my lap. I could hear myself screaming. The body below just kept screaming but from where I was now I could not feel the pain nor could I understand the reason for agony.

"It is very strange being out of one's body. There is a sense of timelessness about the experience, yet there is total consciousness of mind. You know that you are 'you', yet you know you are separated from the physical body that you knew as 'you'. Strangely, there is no fear and it seems as if one belongs where you happen to be. For the most part, you watch what ever is around you with a sense of emotionless ness. Occasionally a sense of human emotion may compel the soul body to reenter the physical one. The process of the reentrance into the flesh is almost impossible for me to describe. It is as if an electrical current speeds the soul from the astral body back to the physical. Yet, you can sometimes think in both bodies at almost the same time. The conscious mind seems to shift from the astral to the physical body at thoughts will. It is an amazing phenomena; the mind transfers rapidly as if an electrical current connects the two bodies. However, when the soul is detached from the physical body, the physical body seems heavy and frozen in paralysis.

"While still in my astral body, I could hear my mother screaming from down below, 'Guy stop it! Stop it, Guy! Dear God what are you doing?' She was clinging to the back screen door. She tried stepping forward, but then fell to the ground. I remember thinking: 'She can't walk. How did she get from her bed?' Then a feeling of humanness and pity engulfed me and drew me to her side. 'Mom, get up! Please get up! Please don't look, Mama! I'll help you up. You have to be in bed.' I tried putting my arms around her to lift her, but my invisibleness went right through her body. It was then I fully realized I was out of my body and that she could neither see nor hear me. She kept calling: 'Wally! Wally! Come into the house!' She was calling my physical self, which was still clinging to the body of Brutus several feet away. I stood beside her watching her watch me. The timing of events all melded together into what seemed to be a second of thought. Suddenly Sue Martin was there. I watched her yelling at Guy. 'You lousy son-of-a-bitch! What the hell have you done? You mean heartless son-of-a-bitch!' Guy started pleading for understanding; 'He killed a chicken! Once a dog gets a taste for blood he never stops. We can't have a dog that kills chickens.' I almost felt sorry for him, for he seemed like a child trying to be understood. I watched Sue pick up my body and carry me to the porch and seat me next to Mom. She took both Mom and I inside the house; first Mom then me, but my soul once again left my physical body and returned to the higher place above where I had previously been. I knew now that Mom would be safe.  I just hung there as if I were a weightless balloon filled with helium and watched as an ambulance pulled into our driveway. I saw two men in white carrying Mom into the ambulance. Sue led me by the hand and my physical body entered the ambulance, too. I watched it drive away with Sue's car following. I cannot remember the moment when my soul entered my physical body again.

"The next thing I recall was arriving home from the hospital. I don't remember the drive, but I know that Sue had driven me and that Mom had been left to stay in the hospital once again. I watched as Sue packed my clothes into a suitcase. We were in my bedroom and she was speaking to me about where I was to go, but I was too numb to hear her or realize what she said. I realized that Guy had gone to work; otherwise, Sue would never have been there. I don't remember when she arrived, but suddenly I noticed my friend Joanie was in the room with us, too. She was crying because I was going away and because Brutus had been killed. I remember her leading me by the hand into the backfield behind our house to the grave where Guy and Bucky had buried my dog. She and I picked flowers from the yard and we decorated his grave. Then Joanie, Sue and I built a small cross from lumber we found in the shed. I painted a dedication on it that said, 'Brutus. Dearly Beloved. Forever Loved and Missed.' Then the three of us knelt down beside his grave to pray. Bucky asked if he could join us. I recall that I became angry and hit him, telling him: 'Go away! You have NO right! It's because of you he's dead!' I don't remember if he prayed with us or not. I don't recall seeing him again that day. I only remember Sue and Joanie and I praying beside Brutus's grave.

"Soon after, Aunt Lorraine arrived. It was then that I realized what Sue had told me. I was to leave our home and go to live with my aunt and her family. I went into my bedroom alone to get my suitcase. While there I did the cruelest, the most childish, and yet bravest thing I had ever thus done in my life."

Dr: "And? What was that?"

WW: "I wrote a foolishly immature note to Guy and left it on his bed to find. Never once had I ever before stood up to him, defended myself or in anyway or defied one of his commands. I'm amazed I found the courage to write him that stupidly childish note. I was such a frightened and timid child. What I did was so out of character."

Dr: "Do you recall what you said on that note?"

WW: "Yes. I'm ashamed to say that I recall it very well. My note said:

To Guy Foss,

I hate you for killing Brutus and I hate you for all the times you hurt my Mom and me.

Brutus didn't kill the chicken. Bucky did it. You knew that Brutus was innocent but you killed him anyway. I don't know why God lets good people like my Mom and Brutus get hurt and sick and die. Why does He let bad and mean people like you and Bucky be well? You and Bucky should be the sick ones. It's not fair. I guess God is just a lie.

     Wally

P.S. I will never forgive you for all the bad things you have done to us. It's because of you I have to leave my Mom. I'm going to tell everybody on you. So this is a warning! DON'T YOU EVER HURT MY MOM AGAIN!

"I remember Sue and Joanie kissing me 'Goodbye' as I boarded my aunt's car and that Joanie handed me a bouquet of daisies she had taken from Brutus's grave. The two of them were crying, but I was too numb, too hollow, to care. I watched through the car window as my two friends became smaller and smaller as my aunt and I drove up South Olive Street leaving them behind. I think I also left God behind me too that day, or at least my faith and belief in Him. These were the last things that I would fully remember for what would seem to be a very long time.  

Brutus

End of Part Five

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