Untitled

From: Cherry Girl (cherrygirlkicks@hotmail.com)
Story type: Channeling
Location: 

I guess you could call this a channeling story. Even though no spirits ever invaded my body and I never used a Quiji board, I know that his spirit was with me.

In 1995 my family and I were camping. My grandparents came down for a lunch with us. My grandfather was being particularly goofy that day, squeezing his bratworst until the bubble popped and the juice squirted everywhere, cracking jokes and being in a jolly mood.

When we were done eating, he decided that he would make a joke at me. I was wearing pastel yellow nail polish. He took one look at my hands and exclaimed, "Those look like dead people's finger nails!" I was FURIOUS. I felt absolutely humiliated that something I thought was so pretty made someone else thing of a decaying corpse. Needless to day I retired to the tent. When they left, I never came out to say goodbye.

About a week after we had gone camping I came home from a walk with two of my friends. We went into the house and I heard my mother repeating " Oh my God. Oh my God." I told my friends to go down into our basement "family room" and wait for me there. I thought someone had injured themselves pretty badly and I didn't want anyone to be embarassed by the situation. I went upstairs and my mom told me that Grandpa had a heart attack. I went down to tell me friends and I was just numb. I couldn't cry. After the words came out of my mouth and I had a few seconds to analyze them, I broke down.

I didn't go see him in the hospital for a few days. My mom and sisters and father all told me that he was on life support and had tubes running through him. He had a massive heart attack that had caused him instant brain damage. He was really nothing but a shell. When I went to visit him for the first time I walked into the room, took one look at the bed and went straight to the window and bawled repeating, "Oh my god, oh my God, oh my God." What that really my Grandpa? Was that really the man who rode his bicycle every day for five miles, mowed the lawn a week ago, built me a desk? Is that really my mother's father laying on that bed looking like a science experiment?Yes.

When the decision was made to finally take him off of life support and let him be at rest, we all got to take our time to say goodbye. I walked up to his bed, held his tan hand that was swollen with medicated fluids, looked at the stubble that had grown on his face and forced myself the face the reality of what was happening. I said, " I'm sorry Grandpa. I'm sorry I got so mad at you and never said goodbye. I love you very much and I always will. I'll never stop. I hope you can forgive me and I know that somehow you can hear me."

After his memorial services (he was cremated), and after the worst of the mourning drifted off, I had a dream. In my dream my family and I were at my grandma and Grandpa's house. Everyone was sitting on the couch or chairs that were in the living room and my Grandpa was sitting at the dining room table that was, pretty much, in the living room too. He was wearing the red shirt he always wore, his golf cleats, and I think jeans. He was holding his video camera and laughing at jokes people made and agreeing with people when they made good points. I figured out after a while that I was the only one that could see him, I was the only one looking in his direction. Finally he turned to me and said, "It's ok Jessica. Everything's going to be ok. Everything's going to be fine." I knew that he meant from now on and I knew that he was telling me that I was forgiven.