When I was a child, I spent a great deal of time with my grandfather listening to his stories. My parents and I lived with my grandparents for a time. He was a very wise man. Because of a lung ailment, he was bedridden most of the time that I knew him. In between the gasps and coughs, we would discuss everything. We would talk about books, movies, numbers and especially crosswords. Crosswords were his favorite thing.
The smell of Nyquil and candy was always in the air, and my grandfather had plenty of both. He called me his little scholar. He would utter his throaty cough and laugh at the things I said and did.
I understand he was not always the easiest man to have as a parent, but he was wonderful to me. I remember when he got so sick that they took him to the hospital. He always said, "If I go to the hospital I will never come back alive". As the ambulance attendants carried him away on the stretch he looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled. I never seen him alive after that. He died of sepsis the following morning at the hospital.
A short time later, I was being babysat by my best friend's mother while my family was away. I decided to go back into the house to get something I had forgotten. I went to the kitchen. For some unknown reason, fear gripped me. I did not want to turn to the right and into my grandparent's room. I somehow knew I would see my grandfather there. I chose not to look. I don't know what I was afraid of, surely the spirit of my grandfather wouldn't hurt me. I heard a faint coughing sound.
As I did not turn to look, I felt safer. Surely I had been hearing things. I went to use the bathroom. I shut the door.
It was at that time I heard a shuffling noise. In life, my grandfather had walked very slow. I heard another faint cough. I froze, finishing up my business in fear. Before I could get up, the bathroom door slowly opened. It creaked in the exact manner it did when my grandfather was alive. He didn't have much strength and so he couldn't just throw open a door. At that point, I had no doubt that I was being visited by my grandfather. However, I was in no way ready.
I bolted out the door, arrived in the empty dining room and ran to the living room. Out the front door and onto the porch I flew. I soon was running down the street for my friend's house. From that time until the old house was finally sold, I never looked to the right towards that bedroom. Not ever.
When I told this story to my father, he laughed at me and said, "Your grandfather wouldn't have hurt you." Tell that to a nervous twelve year old.
The smell of Nyquil and candy was always in the air, and my grandfather had plenty of both. He called me his little scholar. He would utter his throaty cough and laugh at the things I said and did.
I understand he was not always the easiest man to have as a parent, but he was wonderful to me. I remember when he got so sick that they took him to the hospital. He always said, "If I go to the hospital I will never come back alive". As the ambulance attendants carried him away on the stretch he looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled. I never seen him alive after that. He died of sepsis the following morning at the hospital.
A short time later, I was being babysat by my best friend's mother while my family was away. I decided to go back into the house to get something I had forgotten. I went to the kitchen. For some unknown reason, fear gripped me. I did not want to turn to the right and into my grandparent's room. I somehow knew I would see my grandfather there. I chose not to look. I don't know what I was afraid of, surely the spirit of my grandfather wouldn't hurt me. I heard a faint coughing sound.
As I did not turn to look, I felt safer. Surely I had been hearing things. I went to use the bathroom. I shut the door.
It was at that time I heard a shuffling noise. In life, my grandfather had walked very slow. I heard another faint cough. I froze, finishing up my business in fear. Before I could get up, the bathroom door slowly opened. It creaked in the exact manner it did when my grandfather was alive. He didn't have much strength and so he couldn't just throw open a door. At that point, I had no doubt that I was being visited by my grandfather. However, I was in no way ready.
I bolted out the door, arrived in the empty dining room and ran to the living room. Out the front door and onto the porch I flew. I soon was running down the street for my friend's house. From that time until the old house was finally sold, I never looked to the right towards that bedroom. Not ever.
When I told this story to my father, he laughed at me and said, "Your grandfather wouldn't have hurt you." Tell that to a nervous twelve year old.
