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| 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.
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| Bill when he was in high school with his horse, Sonny |
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.
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| Source: xymonau |
