My grandmother had died and her loss was profound. We had become quite close; I sat with her, holding her hand in mine as her spirit soared into heaven.
It wasn't the first time I had dealt with death, but it was the first time I had lost someone so close to me. Since I was seven death had become almost too familiar, but this was different.
Of course there were personal belongings to take care of and somehow my mother inherited grandmother's beautiful bed. I always looked at it with wonder. I was quite please it was mine to enjoy, since it now resided in my bedroom.
But no one told me she would come along with it. Every night she appeared, standing patiently at the bottom just looking at me. I don't remember her ever saying a word. Perhaps if she did I blocked it out.
Although I loved her very much, seeing her every night like that was more than I wanted to deal with. I asked her to please stop visiting me, and she did. But I never felt comfortable sleeping in her bed again, so shortly after she left...so did the bed.
Today if that were to happened I'm sure things would have been handled differently. I sometimes wonder if she was disappointed that I was so afraid of her. Hopefully she understood.
I don't remember where the bed went, I think a cousin may have gotten it. But I often wonder if she went with it.
Love you Grandma!
Next Friday- The Spring Street spirit that tried to push me down the stairs.
No comments:
Post a Comment