12-26-2009, 06:27 PM
Grandfather...
"Grandfather, I hate to bother you, but I desperately need your guidance."
I looked over at the man sitting a few graves down from where I was kneeling. He had his eyes closed and hands clasped together, so I turned my attention back to my sister's grave and the weeds growing into it.
"I'm not sure what to do with mom anymore." I turned back to the man near me, but he still had his eyes closed and was facing the grave in front of him. "She's still unhappy with Dan, but she won't do anything about it."
Was he...talking to himself? I watched as he seemed to listen to a non-existent response and felt decidedly uncomfortable being near him. I never liked people who claimed to be "mediums" or "psychic"; it was all in their head and that made them insane and unstable. I was so naive back then.
"Thank you. I promise I'll visit again soon." With that, he pushed himself up and brushed off his pants. "Think I'm crazy?"
I hadn't even noticed that I was still staring at him. "N...no, of course not!"
"I can tell you're lying," he said, looking at my sister's grave. "I would have thought me insane a few years ago. She's your sister, I'm assuming?" He gave a gentle nod toward the grave in front of me.
"Yeah...car accident..." My eyes feel to the ground as I tried to hide the sorrow.
"I'm sure she appreciates the time you spend here." With a smile, he turned around, got into his car, and waved to me as he drove off. I didn't really know what to say. Regardless of his insanity, he understood, so I reconsidered my opinion of him. Looking back, I'm not sure why that one sentence meant so much. I guess I was beginning to think the trips a waste of time. Whatever the reason, I'm glad he said it.
I saw him again about a year later. He seemed much more solemn as I walked up to my sister's grave. "How's your grandfather?" I asked with a slight snicker.
"He moved on," he said quietly, picking out a couple of weeds.
"He wasn't here last time, so what's different? What does that mean? You can't talk to him anymore?" I was a snippy bastard most of that year.
The man nodded slowly, brushing off the stone in silence. I wondered what his name was. It was probably something stupid-
"I'm Tom," he snapped. "If you're going to be like this I'll just leave."
"Mark, be nice." My sister's voice. I turned to look at her grave, but everything was silent. We were the only two people here.
Tom started chuckling. "I take it you heard her? That's the face most people make when they hear a spirit." I stared at him skeptically, trying to find some source of noise - anything that I could misinterpret as her voice.
"And you thought I was crazy!"
"You'll get used to it eventually," Tom whispered with a grin. "Either that or you'll block it out and struggle with the voices your entire life. If you choose to accept it..." He reached into and inside pocket on his jacket and pulled out a small index card. The background had OC in huge letters with a name, phone number, and e-mail address in the front. "Send me a message or something. It's a bit more...involved than you think, though."
I nodded and started to trying to think of the extension for OC. He glanced at his grandfather's grave one last time before leaving.
"It's nice to be able to talk to you, little brother."
I grinned and started cleaning off my sister's grave, tucking Tom's card into my pocket. "It's nice talking to you, too. I've missed you so much..."
"Grandfather, I hate to bother you, but I desperately need your guidance."
I looked over at the man sitting a few graves down from where I was kneeling. He had his eyes closed and hands clasped together, so I turned my attention back to my sister's grave and the weeds growing into it.
"I'm not sure what to do with mom anymore." I turned back to the man near me, but he still had his eyes closed and was facing the grave in front of him. "She's still unhappy with Dan, but she won't do anything about it."
Was he...talking to himself? I watched as he seemed to listen to a non-existent response and felt decidedly uncomfortable being near him. I never liked people who claimed to be "mediums" or "psychic"; it was all in their head and that made them insane and unstable. I was so naive back then.
"Thank you. I promise I'll visit again soon." With that, he pushed himself up and brushed off his pants. "Think I'm crazy?"
I hadn't even noticed that I was still staring at him. "N...no, of course not!"
"I can tell you're lying," he said, looking at my sister's grave. "I would have thought me insane a few years ago. She's your sister, I'm assuming?" He gave a gentle nod toward the grave in front of me.
"Yeah...car accident..." My eyes feel to the ground as I tried to hide the sorrow.
"I'm sure she appreciates the time you spend here." With a smile, he turned around, got into his car, and waved to me as he drove off. I didn't really know what to say. Regardless of his insanity, he understood, so I reconsidered my opinion of him. Looking back, I'm not sure why that one sentence meant so much. I guess I was beginning to think the trips a waste of time. Whatever the reason, I'm glad he said it.
I saw him again about a year later. He seemed much more solemn as I walked up to my sister's grave. "How's your grandfather?" I asked with a slight snicker.
"He moved on," he said quietly, picking out a couple of weeds.
"He wasn't here last time, so what's different? What does that mean? You can't talk to him anymore?" I was a snippy bastard most of that year.
The man nodded slowly, brushing off the stone in silence. I wondered what his name was. It was probably something stupid-
"I'm Tom," he snapped. "If you're going to be like this I'll just leave."
"Mark, be nice." My sister's voice. I turned to look at her grave, but everything was silent. We were the only two people here.
Tom started chuckling. "I take it you heard her? That's the face most people make when they hear a spirit." I stared at him skeptically, trying to find some source of noise - anything that I could misinterpret as her voice.
"And you thought I was crazy!"
"You'll get used to it eventually," Tom whispered with a grin. "Either that or you'll block it out and struggle with the voices your entire life. If you choose to accept it..." He reached into and inside pocket on his jacket and pulled out a small index card. The background had OC in huge letters with a name, phone number, and e-mail address in the front. "Send me a message or something. It's a bit more...involved than you think, though."
I nodded and started to trying to think of the extension for OC. He glanced at his grandfather's grave one last time before leaving.
"It's nice to be able to talk to you, little brother."
I grinned and started cleaning off my sister's grave, tucking Tom's card into my pocket. "It's nice talking to you, too. I've missed you so much..."