Remembering
There was no doubt about it, I was dying, and according to the doctors, I didn't have long now. I was at peace with it though. I'd lived to see eighty seven years of life. The last five, my health had worsened significantly. I'd always been so healthy, so full of life and vigor. Everyone seemed surprised with my rapid deterioration. It wasn't a surprise for me though. As soon as my beloved husband passed away, I knew I was lost without him. I was not prepared for his passing; I don't think anyone can really be prepared for that. But the good Lord giveth and the good Lord taketh away. My life was truly blessed. I have no complaints.
There is a benefit, I suppose, to being on one's death bed. Family you never get to see anymore comes to visit. Prior to the recent grim diagnoses, I had only weekly visits from my children. Now even my grown grandchildren that I haven't seen in months are coming. Yesterday my son's three boys came to see their grandma. Today it is Sylvia, my granddaughter, who has come to visit. Unlike the boys that visited occasionally, every so many months, I haven't seen Sylvia for six years. I've been told she is studying abroad at a university in England, and of course, I am terribly proud of her. Twenty-four years old, she is a strikingly beautiful woman. She reminds me of myself before the wears of time left me with all my wrinkles.
With the boys there were no awkward moments. I'd seen them for the holidays, and they'd made efforts to visit when they could. Sylvia is different though. There is a disconnect between us. A gap that the distance and time apart has created. She is staring listlessly out the window and has stood there for nearly five minutes. I resist the urge to scold her for biting her nails and fidgeting so much with her hair. I don't want to be remembered as the nagging old grandma. Besides, it only speaks of her discomfort with the whole situation. I remember how I felt when I visited my dying mother in the hospital. You want to be there, but there is nothing you can say or do. You're powerless to change any outcome. It was a dreadful feeling, and if she is dwelling on any of that, I wish to ease her mind, to distract her, maybe even close that gap a little.
"Did I ever tell you how I met your Grandfather?" At first I'm not even sure if she's heard me. I see her blink a few times as if she had been lost in thoughts or recollections from a far off place. Then she turns to face me, shaking her head before she even speaks.
"No, I don't believe you have."
"It's a good little tale." I point to the chair that remains just to the right of my bed. "Have a seat and relax dear. I haven't told this story in some time." As I begin to tell the story I feel myself brought back to that summer's night. The sweet cool breeze that had broken the oppressive heat of the day. The smell of the crab apple trees in blossom. The bright colors bursting across the night sky so spectacularly. Brilliant white blues and reds as one firework after another exploded above me. I was younger than Sylvia is now, not quite twenty two years of age. I had gone out with female friends to celebrate our nation's birthday, and everyone had a man except me. Many of them were married already or going to marry soon; it was a different time. Perhaps that's why I looked down amidst the fireworks display. Because subconsciously I was searching. That's when I saw him. He was the most attractive man I'd ever seen. He wore a spectacularly well cut suit and a dapper hat. He was gazing up at the sky, completely unaware of me, but when I saw him, everything began to move in slow motion. The bursting light of the fireworks barely crawled across the sky. I even felt my knees go weak as a rush of butterflies fluttered through my stomach. He lowered his gaze and our eyes met. There was such perfect ease in his smile. I knew something magical was happening.
It was then, as the slow motion concluded as strangely as it began, that he turned to leave. He was working his way through the crowd. I knew I'd lose sight of him in mere moments if I didn't hurry. Having no time for explanations, I merely bolted off on my friends and tried my best to track down this mystery man that had suddenly become so important to me. Even though their attentions were drawn skyward, the revellers still seemed to part for the mystery man. Perhaps they saw him out of the corner of their eye, but I was a good deal shorter and had no such luck. I did my best to keep up with the man though. I took advantage of my petite size and frame to snake my way through the crowd. I'm certain I upset a few people as I pushed past them, but I wasn't going to let him slip away. I knew I couldn't.
My heart skipped a beat and I felt a surge of panic. The man had broken past the edge of the crowd and was now freely walking towards the parking lot. Another twenty feet of human wall lay between me and him, their faces lighting up with the occasional burst of light from the sky. It was bad enough that I was irrationally chasing a man, but to have it all turn out for naught, seemed worse. I strained to follow the man through the crowd now, paying attention to where in the parking lot he was heading. Blindly and not carefully, I tried to push on and that was when it happened. I slammed into a man with such force I nearly fell backwards. I swear it felt as if I'd run headlong into a brick wall. I was absolutely furious with him of course. Even if it wasn't his fault, I was still angry.
"But what about Grandpa? I mean you caught up with him eventually right?" Sylvia is biting her nails again as she asks the question, but this time, I'm certain it is my story that has brought it on. That makes me smile.
"Well that is how I met your Grandpa. You see he just smiled at me. His grinning just enraged me further at first, but it was so contagious that eventually and despite myself I smiled right back. The man I'd run into that night was my husband-to-be."
"I don't get it though. What about the slow motion, the butterflies, the desperate need to connect with that mystery man? What about all of that?"
I smile broadly at her questions. "Dear, I just knew that I had to follow that man. That for some reason, it was incredibly important. I didn't know at the time why I had to follow him, and I never would have expected what happened would occur. But that's the beauty of life, dear. It's full of wonderful surprises, and you never know how you'll uncover them."
Telling the story eased Sylvia's nervousness. As an added benefit, I relived one of the most memorable nights of my life; though, perhaps most importantly, I reconnected with my granddaughter, getting to see her smile, the way she always had.
