The one person I would give anything to see again...

Dreams are more than just visions in our heads while we are peacefully asleep; they are colorful interpretations of our fears, longings, and imagination. I rarely have dreams that I am able to remember vividly. The other morning I woke in tears from one of the most realistic dreams I have ever had. I cannot describe a more perfect dream, then the one that was cut far too short. It will never be able to come true, it is far past the impossible, into a realm that is beyond this world; I wish more than anything that I could have it again.

I had just finished a game and was walking off to the sidelines. I took off my equipment, and put everything away in the neat and orderly fashion I must have it in. I was so tired, so it must have been a good game, though I am not sure who we were playing. As always, I knew my friends were in the bleachers waiting for me and my fellow teammates to make the trek across the field so they could congratulate us on a game well played. With my large bag in one hand wheeling behind me, and my stick in my other, I began the 60 yard journey across the turf.

I looked up when I was about halfway across; what I saw made me let go of everything I had been carrying. A set of bleachers off to the side, not connected to the others, was where they all were gathered. The first person I saw waiting for me was my Uncle Jo Jo. He was perched next to the bleachers in his wheel chair with an unfamiliar woman standing behind him. She was rummaging through his bag that was slung over the back of his chair; she must have been his nurse. My eyes continued down the line, my Aunt Peggy was sitting next to him, with her arm wrapped around my Aunt Rose who sat to her left. Aunt Rose looked frail, but nothing to the way she had looked the last time I had seen her. She had a huge smile on her face. Her eyes lit up, there was a spark behind them. Happiness, I haven’t seen it inside her for a very long time. Sitting in front of them were two women, one with long hair the color of my own, the other with short dark brown hair. I looked from one to the other and recognized one of them. Ruthie, my mother’s best friend, had the dark hair; the second woman however was hard to place. She looked familiar, but only slightly. It hit me hard when I realized who she was. My father’s mother, she was so beautiful. I had never met her before, she looked so young. I could see a bit of my father in her, this warmed my heart more than words could explain. Once I got a hold of myself I looked down to pick up my belongings and continue walking to see the people who had never seen me play before. I looked up again about to take my first step, and in that moment caught a glimpse of the one woman I would give anything to see again. The white hair, those big glasses, her short though very cute body standing in front of me.

My grandmother, my Nana, my Nana Marcy--------------- she was here.

Unable to control myself I started running. I had nothing in my hands anymore, nothing mattered. I was going to get to hug her, tell her I loved her, tell her I missed her, I ran as fast as I could but not fast enough. Tears were streaking down my face. Her smile comforted me, but all too quickly began to fade. I woke up. This could not be happening. I cried harder than I have ever cried over losing my grandmother, crying tears of anger, sadness, and disappointment.

I was only 7 when my grandmother died, but I can remember her so clearly though. Watching TV while she sat in the blue armchair claiming she was just resting her eyes, playing card games, and doing puzzles, and just feeling the love that she had for me. I distinctly remember the last car ride I had with her alone. She had this small cute red car. As we drove up my driveway I turned to her and asked, “Nana, will you ever leave me?” She looked at me and told me she never would. She has kept that promise. I feel her around me all the time. She is my guardian angel; there to protect me, keep me safe. Doing little things to let me and my whole family know she is around.

She used to stay in my bed room with me, and if she had not gotten sick, she would have been moving in. To this day, the TV in that room goes on by itself. My mom has told me ever since it started happening that it was just Nana’s way of telling us she had come to visit. She also tends to take things that I have been looking for. I mumble under my breath something to the effect of, “Nana! Put it back” and with in a minute I usually find it.

That morning when I woke up and had calmed down, I realized she had come to me for a reason. Nana wanted me to know that she has always been watching me that she has seen me play, she has seen me grow into the person I am today. She has visited my dreams in times of lonliness, sadness, or just when she knows I need someone. I love my Grandmother, Marcelline Benoit, more than life itself, and I hope that some day I will have the ability to influence someones life the way she has mine.

I did not die

Do not stand on my grave and weep
I am not there I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in the snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am a gentle Autumns rain
When you awaken in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
I am the birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
So do not stand on my grave and cry
I am not there.... I did not die