The last words she spoke to me were completely silent. She pleaded with her eyes. Her tiny shoulders shook violently, measuring the intensity with which she communicated. “LOVE!” she finally yelled.
“Grandma, it’s okay, don’t talk. I know you love me. I love you too. I know. I know.” I consoled her with my eyes, assuring a connection with her soul, her beautiful soul.
In all the months of watching her body deteriorate from the inside out, I never struggled to see past the outer eggshell. Week after week I drove out to spend time with her, watching as the light in her eyes grew dimmer, knowing that the light before her was getting brighter.
She never had to say anything with me. We both just knew. Always, the inexplicable joy of being heaven-bound capturing us both; her with anticipation, me with jealousy.
“Close my eyes.”
…There was a twinge of destiny in my hands too that day. I painted. I heard her say it again. I wondered what she meant. I placed my wondering palm on her face and kissed her forehead as I had become accustomed to doing only since she became ill. She closed her eyes.
I turned the lights off in the room before I left. It was the last time I saw her. Tuesdays. The day I would visit. I have decided to take her inexplicable joy with me…and…
Open my eyes.
Perhaps a little brighter than before as I have been able to experience the same joy she found.