Three years ago on December 4th, my Grandpap passed away in a Pittsburgh Hospital. He was 91 years old and had lived a full and ripple filled life. Before he passed away, I had the privilege of visiting him in hospital.
… The hallway was brightly lit with fluorescent lights and my shoes squeaked on the shiny tile floor. I could smell cleaning supplies from the newly buffed floor and could sense the importance of this visit in the pit of my stomach. My Mom walked beside me and tried to put on a happy face, but the sadness and worry in her eyes gave her away.
As I walked into Pap's room, I had prepared myself for him to not know me. To my happy surprise, I heard his familiar warm voice say, " I know who that pretty girl is over there, that's my Tara!"
We sang songs to Pap, so many that I can't recall how much time we spent. I had moments where the emotion of the song came pouring out of my tear filled eyes. Mom had to sing louder when that happened. When Grandpapa saw my tears he's take my hand and smile and try to sing with me.
He was thirsty, so I fed him spoonfuls of gelatin thickened water whenever he asked. "So what kind of car do you got? Grandpa asked heartily. "A Chrysler Neon Espresso." I replied. "Good," Pap said. " You make sure you have good tires too, ok?" I smiled and assured him that I did.
He asked how his great grandkids and my husband were and was surprised to know how old they were. "Gee, that little guy was just a baby the last I saw him. Kiss them for me, Ok?" I gave him their pictures from school. He smiled at them.
Time was moving to fast for my liking. It was getting dark out and I had to drive back on unfamiliar roads to get home. I had to get ready to say goodbye. Goodbye just didn't seem like the right words to say.
My Grandpap, my shaman, my storyteller said, " So are you still working for a church? "Yes." I replied with a strained voice. "Good, good I'm happy to hear it."
Grandpap paused for a moment and said, " You keep on working for God till Jesus comes, alright? Wherever you go, take his light with you and share it with whoever you meet. Okay?"
"Yes, I will." I replied with tears streaming down my face and splatting on my shoes and the waxy floor.
I hugged Grandpap a snug as I could, I told him I loved him and how special he was to me.
He said, " I love you too. I'll see you later and don't forget to keep working for God. Ok?
"Ok."
I felt as if I got to release my Grandpap to go home. I never said the words, "Good-bye". I preferred to say " I'll see you later. "
I know I will. He gave the best direction any oral storyteller could. He helped to set my path and I'm trying to follow as best I can.
He was my Shaman, he still is. In the stories I tell and the hope that they give he's still teaching me the way. His ripples have become my ripples and I'm letting them reach as far as possible. No sunset, just oceans to travel. These ripples never stop.
… The hallway was brightly lit with fluorescent lights and my shoes squeaked on the shiny tile floor. I could smell cleaning supplies from the newly buffed floor and could sense the importance of this visit in the pit of my stomach. My Mom walked beside me and tried to put on a happy face, but the sadness and worry in her eyes gave her away.
As I walked into Pap's room, I had prepared myself for him to not know me. To my happy surprise, I heard his familiar warm voice say, " I know who that pretty girl is over there, that's my Tara!"
We sang songs to Pap, so many that I can't recall how much time we spent. I had moments where the emotion of the song came pouring out of my tear filled eyes. Mom had to sing louder when that happened. When Grandpapa saw my tears he's take my hand and smile and try to sing with me.
He was thirsty, so I fed him spoonfuls of gelatin thickened water whenever he asked. "So what kind of car do you got? Grandpa asked heartily. "A Chrysler Neon Espresso." I replied. "Good," Pap said. " You make sure you have good tires too, ok?" I smiled and assured him that I did.
He asked how his great grandkids and my husband were and was surprised to know how old they were. "Gee, that little guy was just a baby the last I saw him. Kiss them for me, Ok?" I gave him their pictures from school. He smiled at them.
Time was moving to fast for my liking. It was getting dark out and I had to drive back on unfamiliar roads to get home. I had to get ready to say goodbye. Goodbye just didn't seem like the right words to say.
My Grandpap, my shaman, my storyteller said, " So are you still working for a church? "Yes." I replied with a strained voice. "Good, good I'm happy to hear it."
Grandpap paused for a moment and said, " You keep on working for God till Jesus comes, alright? Wherever you go, take his light with you and share it with whoever you meet. Okay?"
"Yes, I will." I replied with tears streaming down my face and splatting on my shoes and the waxy floor.
I hugged Grandpap a snug as I could, I told him I loved him and how special he was to me.
He said, " I love you too. I'll see you later and don't forget to keep working for God. Ok?
"Ok."
I felt as if I got to release my Grandpap to go home. I never said the words, "Good-bye". I preferred to say " I'll see you later. "
I know I will. He gave the best direction any oral storyteller could. He helped to set my path and I'm trying to follow as best I can.
He was my Shaman, he still is. In the stories I tell and the hope that they give he's still teaching me the way. His ripples have become my ripples and I'm letting them reach as far as possible. No sunset, just oceans to travel. These ripples never stop.
Comments
My email is eastman_tara@yahoo...no problem and merry christmas!
Tara