As You Drift Across The River

A Story by Halifax

When my grandfather was in his final moments my grandmother took a seat down next to him. Then she told him a story. This story is her final words to my grandfather.

By Grammy and I

Silence wrapped around the whole room. It covered my mouth and I could break free, I wasn't strong enough. I watched my grandfather's chest slowly rise and fall. The only thing to break through the nothing, his gasping breaths.

I was ten. Old enough to have heard the word cancer, too young to understand what it meant. That didn't matter. Death doesn't care about what you don't understand.

We all sat around the room. My mother near the door, my cousin sitting on a chair facing away from it all.

I saw my grandmother from the corner of my eye, she had been sitting the closest, the bravest of us all. I watched her stand up and, with that calm face of hers, walked to my grandfather's side.

She took the chair right next to his bed. He didn't open his eyes, he hadn't, not in the past day. She placed her hand on top of his. And then she told a story. It was a story so full of life, you'd almost forget any was lost.

"Picture a river."

"Look at the bright blue water and a bright blue sky. Do you see the light shining on the top of the water? Do you hear the birds in the trees? There's a boat next to you, do you see it? It's right there are the ground, right by your feet. You're standing strong."

My mother began to cry then. My grandmother didn't even look up.

"As you drift across the river you see the beautiful sunset right in front of you. Each touch of your paddles draws you closer and closer to that sunset. The waves of color surround you. The feeling of warmth. The smell of roses."

She placed her wrist closer. Moved his face close to the rose perfume she put on every morning.

"As you drift across the river, you see your mother, your brother. You see your son on the other side of that river. You see all the smiling faces inviting you to the other side of the river."

And then she went quiet.

She stood up and walked out the door. When she walked back in she wasn't alone.

The nurse told us the news in words that my grandmother already knew. In words that brought my mother to her chair. In words that I didn't know quite yet. I looked at my mother but she had covered her face with her hands. So, I looked to my grandmother. My grandmother smiled. It was a smile that told me that my grandfather was happy. Free from the pain, free from his hospital bed. He was free. He was making amends with his son, catching up with his mother, and laughing with his brother. All the way on the other side of the river.

My grandmother loved to tell her story to friends. A lot of the women in her apartment building lived their lives without a husband. They would sit down around a pitcher of tea and recount the days they could remember. The days they never could forget. Although she isn't here to tell that story herself I hope it can live on. I hope she can read this story, all the way on the other side of the river.