If you have a grandmother or grandfather, go and visit him, her, or both of them right now before you read this, or after if you like, but I warn you not to wait too long.
My grandmother’s name is Anna. She asked me to drop a feather into her grave after they lowered her casket into the ground. I said I would even though I was hoping to split from the scene just before the painful lowering of grandma into the ground for eternity. I waited as promised and dropped the feather into her grave. When I let the feather go, the wind blew it in a soft floating way and then in a downward spiral where it landed on the side of the coffin where I imagined her heart to lie.
I want to tell you this.
Before she passed she said the she has had some gloriously golden moments in her lifetime and was happy for most of her days. She was happy even when she was waiting she said.
“Waiting?” I asked, “waiting for what grandma?”
“Not waiting for what, waiting for whom,” she answered.
“ Whom were you waiting for? I asked.
“You,” she answered.
‘Yes dear, I always waited for you to come and visit and when you did I jumped for joy.”