Part 14, Memories

Hey readers!!! It's time for another story time Sunday! Please let me know if you're enjoying the reading and if it's helping at all. Feedback would be wonderful for me. Enjoy!

 

 When my grandpa fell ill, I remember going to visit him only once. They had a hospital bed set up in the living room where he had his recliner and that's where he would stay. My grandmother would make him malteds since he couldn't eat or drink much. I remember how sweet I thought it was that she would take care of him like that. I was young, only eight years old, so I wasn't sure what was wrong with him. All I knew was that he wasn't doing well. My parents had told me it was lung cancer when I was a teenager, but I found out recently from my grandmother that it was actually colon cancer. I remember pulling up one of the dining room chairs next to his hospital bed and sitting by him, holding his hand for hours on end, while the rest of the family crowded the living room and just watching TV or making light conversation. These were maybe the last moments they would spend with him and they didnt really know what to say or do. None of us could really fathom not having him in our lives. So, instead we just sat almost entirely in silence while we visited. He didn't talk very much but he continued to hold my hand while I sat with him, so it seemed as if he liked my presence there. I like to think it made him feel better, but who knows. I was eight years old and had no idea what was happening, just that I wanted to stay by him because something was wrong.

I remember the day my dad told me that he had passed away. My mother was visiting grandpa while my dad stayed home and took care of us. My bedroom was in the basement and I was building homes with lincoln logs with Alex. I don't remember where Carl was, but I don't recall him being home when I received the news. My dad walked down the stairs and I had an out of body experience. I was looking through my father's eyes while he stood at the top of the stairs. All he said was, “Guys, your grandpa passed away.” I was then back in my own body and started balling. I couldn't play anymore, all I could do was cry. I don't even remember how long I sat there crying. I was devastated. He was the one person in my family I felt completely safe around and now he was gone, and I couldn't even be there when he passed away.

What was really strange for me, is that very night I had a dream about my grandfather. I had dreamt that four angels had come to take him to heaven and relieve him of his pain. In the dream, it was the middle of the night and everyone was sleeping when they took him away. I remember seeing his soul, or spirit, leaving his body and going with them. I don't know if it was me seeing him die, or what, but it was definitely a strange coincidence that my dad told us that next day he had left us. I've never told anyone about my dream. I haven't really talked to anyone about my grandfather since he passed away. Even if I had, it's really hard to believe that I was seeing him, his soul, as he passed away. It was so hard for the whole family when he died that no one talked about it. I wanted to and tried to talk to my family about it, but no one could handle it. I never thought I could live without him, and I feel like that was when I started to become numb; after he passed away. He was the only person in my life that kept me from slipping into depression and he was gone.

I remember the funeral somewhat clearly. I cried that whole day. We sat in the front row during his funeral and I couldn't stop crying. I remember my mother sitting to my left, and pulling me to her to get me to calm down and stop crying. I must have been loud, but I don't remember. I didn't even get to see them place him in the ground. I just remember being in the car, the back right passenger seat, and watching the group of family members around him as they lowered him while we passed by in our car. I don't know why they wouldn't let me watch. Maybe my parents had thought it would stop me from crying, but it didn't. I continued to cry the rest of the day. I will never be okay with his death, and I will never be the same without him in my life. To this day, I miss him more and want more than anything just to hear his voice again, or hear him call my name like he used to when I was little. I prayed to God for years and years to be able to hear his voice one more time. I even talked to my grandpa in my prayers once in awhile. I never did hear his voice again, but I still pray about it once in awhile. As I'm writing, I can still hear his voice in my head calling my name, and that's good enough for me.

 

Thanks for sticking with me everyone! Until next time :)

 

-River Rei Hayden

"The night is long that never finds the day." - Shakespeare

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