Grandma’s Belief

My grandma was born in 1919. She lived through the Great Depression. She lived through World War II. She was an amazing woman.

Could she be distant? Yes. But as she aged she became softer.

I remember having a conversation with her about losing your virginity and how books totally lied. She agreed. That was the closest she came to admitting to carnal knowledge.

Grandma use to collect people. She never learned to drive so she took the bus everywhere. And being a little old lady she was fairly set in her routine.

People would sit down next to her and the next thing they knew they were telling her their life story and things they often were surprised to have just told a stranger. Grandma was magical. Mom once explained it by saying it is because that person becomes the sole focal point. She would look into their eyes as they spoke. Asked questions.

Yesterday I was facing and one of my regulars was pursuing the apple sauce. We said hello and I asked how she was.

She said good all things considering. I looked at her and she blurted out that she was going for surgery. That she had done the radiation and now Monday she was going in.

I was on my knees and when she finished I stood up. She looked at me a little puzzled and said I don’t know why I told you that. I said it is something I got from my grandma. Her magic.

I told her I would send out lots of healing white light to her and keep her in my thoughts. But that I could not say anything more because I would cry. And she said she would to. So I said I would think of her and we went our separate ways.

I eealized that it had been a while since I had thought of grandma.

One of the last conversations I had with my grandma she told me something that kind of shocked me. Truth be told I did not realize how she viewed me.

‘Out of everybody Jay, you are the only one I never worried about. You are the one most like me.’

I miss my grandma a lot today. So I thought I would write about her.

Ode to Grandma

***Tonight as I was making my bed and putting my stuffies back on I began to wonder about my grandma. And how hard it must have been to have slept with my grandfather all those years and then going to sleeping alone. As I was doing the dishes I continued to have this thought which lead me to this story inspired by my grandma.***
That’s my granddaughter down there.
Looking over I saw a petite woman. Her blonde hair obviously from a bottle.. Cherub smile. Eyes sparkling. When her eyes caught mine I found myself drawn in.
Which one?
That one. The one doing the dishes. 
Looking down I saw a woman doing her dishes. Music played in the background.
She actually was washing her own dishes. 
I heard a chuckle from beside me and looked over at Grandma as I could now only think of her.
She is pretty smart. 
About somethings.
Other things she knows nothing about.
Like how to let people in.
So long she took care of everyone else.
Not an easy nut to crack my granddaughter.
Looking around I became bewildered.
I was seated in a hospital style waiting room.
However the attendants all had wings. And halos.
Began to wonder if the drugs I had done throughout the years were finally catching up with me.
Another cackle.
It seemed that Grandma was also a mind reader.
She patted my hand reassuringly and smiled.
You are in that space.
A small window between life and death.
The lip of the abyss.
You can continue forward to the judgement that awaits you.
Or you can go back.
I just thought I would point out my granddaughter.
She is a nurse you know.
I became aware of a pulsing pain.
I began to wish I was dead.
I had been dead hadn’t I?
Now I was confused.
Was it a dream?
Or had I actually met some woman’s grandmother?
Who was trying to set me up with her granddaughter.
I groaned.
Felt a soft hand upon my arm.
Struggled to open my eyes.
It took time to focus.
First came the eyes.
Blue as irises.
The smile.
I knew he would make the right choice.
She looked over.
Seeing a cute little old lady.
Radiating kindness and care.
Don’t worry dear. 
I am here to help.
Transition or Return to Sender.
I am the Sorter of Souls. 
Fitting as I once was a Sorter of Mail. 
She giggled.
It was infectious.
Maybe she would stay awhile.
Rest her weary heels.
©June 5/20
Picture via Pinterest
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