13

Thirteen years ago, my Grandma passed away

On February 13.

It's a date that is somewhat easy to remember--

The day before Valentine's Day.

I was there in her room when she left this life.

It was something of a sacred experience for me.

One that, ironically, convinced me that there is life after life.

I think of that often.

My Grandma spent much of her life with failing health.

From the time I was born,

Strokes and surgeries slowly claimed one ability after another.

She had been bed-ridden for over a year when she died.

The day of her viewing, my aunt gathered us all around and spoke of where my Grandma had gone.

That her spirit had been freed,

And that her body was left here with us.

She spoke to my young cousins and said that her body was in a casket--

A box where treasures are are kept--

But her spirit was in Heaven.

And that someday,

Her spirit would come back to her body,

And she would live again.

I think of that often.

Every Valentine's Eve, to be exact.

The day before the day when we celebrate love,

I think of the love of my Grandma.

And I think of all of the conversations and memories that we never could share in this life,


That will be in the life to come.

And on this day before Valentine's

I think of the love of One

Who made it possible for me to see her again.