Weatherman

Weatherman

Have you ever known someone who had a way of saying your nickname or name with so much love; like they were blessing you? Like each time they see you was the first time. My grandfather was my special person.

I miss his calmness, steadiness and easy-going ways. He seemed to never be in a rush and not much bothered him. I enjoyed sitting in his presence and talking to him. Talking to him was like talking to the oracle. He had an old school way of telling stories about simple things. He told his life stories exactly how they happened. He would also talk about the weather in great detail. So much detail that, at times, I thought he should be the meteorologist on local TV because he was more accurate.

It feels like I am there now standing and watching my grandfather as he lay in bed. He is not his talkative-self, he looks thin and not responding to our presence in the room. Over the past few days doctors have given him medicine to keep him as comfortable as possible. His breathing is shallow and I’m scared I’ll see him die. I’m not ready for this experience. I count the seconds between his breaths. He takes a shallow inhale then barely exhales. My Mom and I wait (felt like eternity) for him to take the next breath. All our family members got their chance to say goodbye so we were allowing him to go, but in the moment, I didn’t want him to… not that day, and in that moment. I prayed to God saying, “Please don’t let him die right now, because my grandmother will be so hysterical!” Her reaction to death is too intense. After I stop praying he takes another breath and my Mother and I hug my grandmother and leave. It felt like we were really escaping.

48-hours later he transitioned peacefully in his sleep.

A month or two later my husband and I were grocery shopping. We were about to leave the produce section of the store. I turned and saw a man who looked exactly like my grandfather. The resemblance was eerie, freaky and made me stop and hold my breath. The man I saw was a younger taller version and he looked just like my grandfather. He stood by the vegetables as if he were going to pick some. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. I took a breath and realized what was happening. My husband said, ” I saw him too!” We turned back to look and the man was gone. My husband searched the entire store and could not find this man, that looked like my grandfather. It was him.

I told my mother and she had a similar experience around the same time. I told my brother and he too had a similar experience around the same time. I guess my grandfather wanted to let us know he was okay. I remember visiting his burial site wondering if he was okay. I know that sounds crazy, but I was so concerned about his well-being, in the after life. When I spent the night with my grandmother, after his death, I could not sleep in the room where he died. In fact, I told my grandmother I wanted to sleep upstairs and if she would too. She laughed at me and said, ” Girl your grandfather is dead. He ain’t gone get you!” I tossed and turned that night and prayed for daylight.

I miss him. I miss his calm. He was and is the only one that could say my nickname and make me feel special.

Copyright © 2018 by Allura Eshmun

 

 

Published by Allura Eshmun

When I write there is no certain way to be...