By Roberto Diego

Copyright 2004 by Roberto Diego.  All rights reserved.  The reader is allowed to print and distribute this document provided the copyright notation and Mr. Diego's web site address are visible on the page.  http://www.insmkt.com/myhome.htm.  If you would like to place it on a web page, please contact the author for approval.  sales@insmkt.com

I was six years old when Grandma Carter died. I remember how Grandpa Carter cried when they lowered her casket into the ground. I discovered what it is like to have a loved one die, for I too loved her.

After the funeral, Mom and Dad bought the house next to Grandpa's farm and we moved in. I liked being with Grandpa every day. He used to sit in the rocking chair on his porch while I played on the tire swing in his front yard.  That swing must have been there for years hanging under that big black tree.  I still remember the wide old trunk and strong branches that I used to swing under.  Those were beautiful warm sunny days but it looked like Grandpa was always sad as he sat there in his rocking chair looking at Grandma’s empty chair next to him.

"Hi, Grandpa. Can I sit next to you?"

"No, Geri. Go play on the swings."

"But Grandpa, I don't want to play on the swings today. I want to sit in this chair next to you."

"Geri, that chair belongs to your Grandmother."

"I'm sorry, Grandpa."

I walked to the swings. What did Grandpa mean? Grandma was dead. How could a chair belong to her? Was she coming back?

I jumped out of the swing and ran home.

"Mommy, Grandma Carter is coming back!''

"Geri, please don't say that."

"But Mommy, Grandpa just said so. He's saving a chair for her."

"Can't you see I'm busy, young lady? Now go play."

I thought Mom would be glad, but she didn't care.

I went out to ask Grandpa when she was coming back, but he was asleep in his chair.

That night, when Dad was putting me to bed, I asked him if Grandma was coming back. He said that it was impossible. He explained that Grandpa loved her so much that he probably wished she would come home.

"Grandpa, did you love Grandma?" I asked the next day as he sat in his rocking chair.

"I still love her, hon."

"Is that why you leave her chair empty?"

"Your grandmother and I used to sit in these chairs every day. I sat here and she sat there. That she's gone does not mean her spirit is not still with Me.

"Do you mean her ghost sits in that chair?"

"Geri, please go play."

Grandpa was mad at me again. I reasoned that I must have scared him when I called Grandma a ghost. He was probably afraid of ghosts and didn't want to admit that she was one.

Later that day, as I was carrying my dolls by Grandpa’s house, I discovered something very strange. As I walked silently behind Grandpa, I heard him talking.

"Lillian, I know you can hear me, my precious one. To me you are alive as always. I love you, Lil."

Grandpa was talking to Grandma. So that was it. He could talk to her in that chair. And she talked to him. No wonder he didn't want me to sit in it. She really was a ghost, and he was the only one who knew. I wondered; if I sat in Grandpa's chair, could I talk to Grandma too?

I sat behind Grandpa and waited.

Soon he got out of his chair and went into his house. This was my chance. I hurried into the rocking chair.

"Hi, Grandma. How are you? Fine, I hope. I am fine, but I miss you. Gee, it is great talking to you. Grandma, will you talk to me?"

I waited, but she didn't say a word.

"Oh, please, Grandma, talk to me." I started to cry. "Show me that you still love me."

I saw Grandpa standing behind the chair. He had been watching me for some time. I got up and ran to him.

"Grandpa, Grandma won't talk to me like she does to you. She doesn't love me.”

His old face held a surprised look. I watched each wrinkle move as he realized what was happening.

"I'm sorry, little one.”  Tears began to run through the wrinkled rivers in his face.  “Grandma isn't really here. I've been so busy feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t realize what I have been doing to you. It's time for both of us to learn a lesson in reality."  That was the first time I'd ever heard the word, "reality," and I didn't know what it meant.  But I'd soon find out.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears from my eyes and then his own. He smiled and held me close to him. I watched his lips move as he talked.

"When someone close dies, we are hurt and we miss that person very much, just like you and I miss your grandmother. But there is something I have neglected, and it has hurt you. I have forgotten to accept her death. No, Geri, your Grandma is gone and will never come back. We must learn to accept what happens, even if it makes us sad. We must continue to live.  Do you understand, dear?  Grandma will never come back."  I slowly nodded as I realized the truth that he was saying.

He held me for awhile. Neither of us said anything, but we were both thinking about what he had just said.

He set me down. "Now you go sit on the swing."

I walked over and sat on the swing. I didn't feel like swinging, so I just sat there watching Grandpa. He stood behind the chairs for a long time with a thoughtful expression. Finally, he looked at me for a moment, then walked over to Grandma’s chair, picked it up and carried it to the barn.

And there it stood on the porch: one chair. It looked out of place to me. It seemed not to belong by itself. Grandpa walked back and stopped suddenly, also noticing the awkwardness of the lone chair. Finally, he looked over to me. It was a young smile on an old sad face. I could see that Grandpa was beginning to live again.

And so Grandpa and I continued living and we had lots of fun. We had both learned a valuable lesson. But as a young child of six years, I wasn't able to comprehend the personal anguish Grandpa must have gone through to teach me that lesson. I found out, when at twenty two years, I picked up Grandpa's rocking chair and carried it to the garage.

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