|Random Acts of Kindness Blog Fest May 27-31|
Anniversaries of personal tragedy are the hardest days for me. The first year anniversary or the fifteenth year—time does not change the depth of grieving for the death of someone beloved.
December 12, 1999 was the day my youngest brother Bill died, at age 44. It was 11:30 at night, Sunday night. His fiancée had phoned from Louisiana that afternoon at 2 PM to tell me that Bill was very ill and would be going into surgery to correct problems from surgery done earlier that week.
Very ill. May not make it. Doctor says….
The rest of the day was spent in pacing around the house, calling the nurses’ station, pacing some more. Until 11:30 that night.
On December 12, 2009, I sat, watching my granddaughters playing. The oldest, five year-old Bright Eyes noticed how quiet I was and how sad my face seemed. She climbed up on my lap and asked in her little sweet voice if I was sick.
I told her about my brother and how he had “gone to heaven” ten years ago. Bright Eyes listened solemnly and nodded. She knew about heaven since their dog Shelby had recently gone there, too.
“Well then, Grandma. I’ll hold you 'til you feel better.” Then she settled into my arms, laid her head upon my shoulder, and soaked love into my very being.
I have never been given such a kind gift like this before, or since.