This I Believe

Trina - Ancaster, Canada
Entered on November 14, 2007
Age Group: 30 - 50
Themes: death, love

This is my story, In this I believe:

My 88 year-old Grandmother passed in April, 2007. She was a kindred spirit, even though we lived 2 provinces away from one another. My thoughts were connected to her almost every day, despite this distance, and I often visited her at her home in Weyburn, Saskatchewan, in my dreams. There were so many, many nights that I would awaken in her home in Weyburn, around her dinner table, and it would be as if she was expecting me, and all was well. I would eat and enjoy her company, and then I would wake up, feeling refreshed and warmed by our visit. I never could understand those dreams, which I had had from the time I was young, right up until the moment she passed, in my 36th year. Never once had I mentioned them to her, out of embarrassment, but I wonder, to this day if she dreamt of me coming for dinner too.

My Grandmother was an amazing woman, and her passing was no less phenomenal. She was extremely lucid to the very end of her life, and managed to explain to us, all that she was experiencing emotionally, spiritually, and physically. She would bake, in her dreams, with all of her friends who had passed before her. Plucking the apples from the air, she called out measurements while chatting with her girlfriends, as if they were all in the prime of their lives, baking pies together again. She spoke of moments when her mother came to stand by her bedside, especially when she had particularly bad days. And when she would awaken from these dreams, she would tell us of the things she was doing within them, and how sweet the apples smelled and tasted and that she hadn’t tasted anything that good in years.

When she was through with this life, her mother came to her again in a dream and told her so. So she had the relatives gather together; it was time for her to go. Before she died, she explained the peace she had with where she was going, and that it made her feel so good, it was so very beautiful there, and she was okay to go now. So, with the grace and dignity with which she had lived every day of her life here, my Grandmother passed. And since her passing, interesting things have happened in our lives. We choose to cherish those moments she comes back to share with us. I know she is here, she has a very strong way of making her presence known. I am aware of her often, because I let myself be. I see her messages often because I let myself see them.

One such moment happened recently. It was my mother’s birthday a few weeks ago, and as usual, the birthday cards started rolling in through the mail. My mother began to sit each card upright upon the table, as was customary in my family. It was a moment to look and see the people who loved you, gathered there, on the table in the form of tented cards. One day, she began rearranging the cards to make room for new ones and she noticed one in particular that she hadn’t remembered receiving in the mail. She lifted it up and in bringing it closer, she realized that it was not even a birthday card at all, but in fact it was a Christmas card.

Wondering how it got there, amongst her October birthday cards, she opened it to see who it was from before she discarded it. Upon opening the card, she recognized the hand writing immediately, it was her mother’s, and it read a simple, “love, mom and dad”. No Merry Christmas, no Happy New Year, just simply, “love, mom and dad”. Now this was one of those opportunities life had offered us; a moment to believe or not to believe. It was our choice to make. Do we disregard this and think that somehow last years Christmas card got mixed in with new birthday cards, or are we thankful that Grandma wanted her Daughter to know that she loved her, and that she had not forgotten that it was her Daughter’s birthday, even though she had left this earth 6 months earlier. And, in my moment, I chose to accept the fact that my Grandmother was reaching out to us in a time of need.

My mother was just about to book a flight to Saskatchewan to be by her father’s side as he now laid dying in the same small town she had just buried her mother in so few months earlier. And I, wandering through the mess of divorce, was in a limbo state of numbness to anyone and anything around me. I needed her presence so badly, and thus she came. We both looked at each other, and needed no words to explain, one to the other, the message we had each received from that simple card. She is here in my heart, and in my life, so many of them are; I know this, I believe this.

In this, I believe.