Saying Goodbye

I’m in eighth grade and I’m sitting in my last class of the day.  My seat is to the front of the room near the wall, so I can lean back and look out the windows into the courtyard when I’m supposed to be paying attention.  Summer is starting to get close and there’s an air of restlessness creeping into everyone around me. Maybe I’m dozing off, maybe I’m about to have one of those moments that make you rethink how you see the world.

In the middle of the courtyard I see him, just standing there with that warm and infectious smile on his face. It’s my grandfather, and he’s waving at me. I sit up in my seat and he fades away. The whole thing took maybe 15 seconds and then was over.

I finish the day and spend the bus ride home quietly. Somewhere before I reach my house a thought enters my mind. “I’ve never been to the funeral of a relative and I wonder how I’d handle that.” It’s a strange and morose thought that I immediately push to the back of my head. Who wants to think about stuff like that? I get off of the bus and make my way up the driveway. As I round the turn, I see that my mom is home. This is completely out of the norm. I get this sense of unease, something has to be wrong. I walk into the house and both of my parents are sitting in the living room. Mom looks upset, this doesn’t faze me right away. I look over at dad, he’s been crying, now I understand what’s going on. She tells me to sit down, that they have something to tell me. I shake my head no and tell them to just go ahead and say it. “Your grandfather died this morning.” The air leaves the room for a minute and I do what can only be described as maybe the strangest thing I’ve ever done. I smile and let out a half laugh. It didn’t dawn on me for a few minutes why exactly I had that reaction. He’d come to say goodbye to me. He stood in that courtyard and waved goodbye to me.

The next couple of days are filled with somber family get togethers. I haven’t cried yet, not a single drop. You’d think I was about ready to burst, but I held it together for my mom and dad. I needed to be strong for them. I sat in the funeral home, in the back, by myself. I’m still holding it together, but the whole concept of a wake is foreign to me and to be honest, I hate them. A good friend of my dad’s comes over and sits by me. He looks at me and very plainly says, “I know he didn’t say it very often, but your grandfather always spoke very highly of you and he loved you with all his heart,” Ladies and gentlemen, Niagara Falls. There was no holding back any more. I got it out and sat in the back collecting myself again. My best friend’s father comes and sits down by me. He’s not an overly demonstrative man but he’s always felt like a second father to me. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “He may not be here anymore, but you can always talk to him. He’s always listening and he’s always with you.”

In the years since then, and there have been many, I haven’t seen my grandfather again. I’ve talked to him plenty, but there hasn’t been a response. At least not one that I’ve noticed. I’m going to see a medium in a couple weeks for the first time. Skeptically. If there’s any legitimacy to it, I’m hoping to hear from him again. Even if it’s just another wave.

-A