The Beautiful Soul 29
The Beautiful Soul
There she is laying on the bed virtually motionless. Tubes strung from her arms and the steady low beeping sound of the machine next to her warn me that my grandma is about to enter the next phase of her existence. Noticing my presence, her eyes open slightly. Weakly, she gestures me over and pats the side of the bed commanding me to sit next to her. A place where I have sat many times over the last several months.
“I came as quickly as I could Grandma.”
“I know you did, son.”
Assessing her physical body and not noticing much due to the several layers of blankets covering her, I ask, “what’s wrong Grandma?”
Responding with a calm voice, “It is time.”
Knowing that this day was coming soon, I lower my head averting her gaze, hoping to hide my despair from her so that she wouldn’t worry in her last moments.
“You sensed it too, my boy.”
I nod in reply not able to respond.
“It’s ok Son. This is a natural part of our existence.” She reassures me.
I look up into her eyes, “I know it is Grandma. It’s just that I am going to miss you.”
A slight smile appears on her face reminding me of the beauty that she possessed for so many years. The warmth and the tenderness she provided. The love of a grandmother, and the supplanted love of a mother, her daughter and my mother, whose life was taken before it was time.
“You are thinking of your mother.”
I nod again, “how did you know?”
“I am a grandmother. When a woman is as old as I am, we tend to sense things.” She says with a faint smile. Then sorrow replaces her smile as she continues, “I am sorry that this moment has brought back memories of your mother’s early demise. I know the years without her have been hard on you.”
“Yes, the years have been difficult, but only in the sense of what could have been. Fortunately, I was lucky to have a wonderful grandma that was able to pick up where she could not. She always talked about being a lucky girl that was blessed with a wonderful mother that taught her so much about life, taught her about being a woman, and being a mother.” I pause steadying my quavering emotions. “Through you, I can see what my mother would have become.”
I look into her dark brown eyes and add, “I am so glad to have this opportunity, before you go, to thank you for sharing with me what you shared with her as a child.”
Noticing a tear slowly running down my cheek, she, with some effort, lifts her hand to my face wiping the tear away. “It was my pleasure, son.” She says with her final breath. I catch her falling hand and hold it close to my cheek. The place that we shared our last moment together.
About the Story
This short story is based on multiple events in my life. However, the primary driving force of this story is in regards to a childhood friend of mine, his wonderful mother, Jean, and his fabulous grandmother, Doris. At 38, pancreatic cancer took Jean's life, and shattered my friends world. His Grandma, Doris, was there to pick up the pieces and put them back together as best as she could.
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© 2018 T Ansel