A Visit from Heaven

The other day when I opened the door to my apartment I was hit with a scent I didn’t recognize. All evening long I couldn’t put my finger to the scent, it stuck around for a while and when I realized what it was I couldn’t smell it anymore.

It was my grandfather, and just like that grief hit like a ton of bricks.

Back in 1991 I was a cute little curly haired 4 year old, and I thought I was the coolest thing in the world. We lived in an apartment, I had a two year old brother.. and bunk beds honestly I was cool you should have seen my leggings! I’m not sure when memories start, but the ones I can vividly remember start around the age of 3/4 for me. Right around 1991.

I remember my grandfather as a big man. He was so tall compared to four year old me. Honestly he was most likely tall compared to little 5 foot 3, 28 year old me too. At the time my Pop as we called him was 49 and in not so great health. A type one diabetic most of his life, he lost his sight in his 30s and his leg in his 40s. He and my grandmother divorced after 20 years of marriage, and eventually he remarried a few years later and moved to Florida.

His visits were so special. I think the reason we remember things so vividly is because of the way they make us feel. My Pop made me feel important, he talked to me like I was a real person not some kid. He needed me to help him get things or do lead him places (he most likely didn’t actually need me but he made me feel valued). But the best thing was how safe he made me feel when he would set me in his lap and let me fall asleep on him.

I so often think about how my life would have been different if he were still alive. Would I have gone to college, would I have fought with my mom as much as a teenager, would I have lived with him instead of living with my grandmother. I’m not sure and I will never get to know what might have happend because I only got to know Pop for 4 short years.

I remember or at least I think I remember the day my Pop died because I never saw my mom really cry before. I know she misses him more than me, especially this week because it would have been his 74th birthday on Tuesday.

It is very funny that after 25 years you can still be sad someone has passed, and miss them like they left yesterday. How blessed are we though to get to have those that love us surround us during the Mass?

Today I went to two, just so I could feel near to him. Sometimes you just have to. Here is one of the two pictures I have of he and I.. I keep it in my bible, it’s all folded but it’s lasted almost 30 years!

My Pop was a good man, and I like to believe he is proud of me. Grief is funny my friends, and just when you need some reassurance they visit you and leave you with a gentle reminder, a scent, a penny, a message only you may know just to remind you they are with us always.

Love and Prayers,

Brittany