Trish was talking about something in the prayer thread that got me talking about my grandfathers death in 2001, and that made me think of an interesting story related to his death that I thought I would share.
I'd also LOVE to hear if anyone else has anything to share along these lines. Trish has a story about Irises and her Grand Father that can be found in the prayer thread.
My grandfather first of all, reminded me of Frank Sinatra. He was a real throwback to the old kind of guy. Tough as nails, with a certain charisma that just made you feel good to be around him (although I'm sure a big part of that is the fact he was grandpa )
Ok, so anyway. He had a brother, Mel. The two of them were hilarious together. Many a summer the two of them would keep all of us in stitches when we'd go upnorth to a cabin together for a week (my grandpa had seven sons, and some of the grandkids would go to. JUST THE GUYS MIND YOU )
Well, about a year before my Grandfathers death, Mel became very ill, and had to live in a home, with a portable oxygen tank and some other equipment.
When my grandfather died, we all assumed Mel wouldn't come, because logistically it would be so hard, but he insisted on being there. During the viewing portion of the funeral, the night before the service, he showed up with his childrens help at the funeral home.
It caused us all to break down even more, because he was so heartbroken and in tears the entire time. And he was making this long walk, from the front door, down the stairs, through the lobby, through the viewing area, at a painfully slow pace because he had to stop so often to rest or to cry.
The funeral came and went, and Mel had gone back to live in the home.
One afternoon, his daughter was outside his room talking to a nurse, when Mel started to walk past her down a hall going off to the right side. She stopped him and told him he needed to get back in bed. Mel told her Frankie (that's my grandpa) was calling him, he wanted him to have a cigarette with him, and pointed to the end of the hall.
His daughter told him no one was there, but Mel kept insisting Frankie wanted to have a cigarette with him as they got him back into his room and into his bed.
He died that night.
Take from that story what you will, but for me it's a comforting sign that the best is yet to come. In my minds eye I can picture my grandfather clear as day, looking like Frank Sinatra, probably with one foot propped up on a chair down the hall, calling uncle Mel to him.
So, I'm willing to bet Trish & I aren't the only ones with stories.
)
