The morning my Grandma died I had a dream. I was standing at the end of her hospital bed, where she was the last time I saw her, in her living room. We were in front of the double doors staring into the snowy back yard. The sun was bright and hazy- so bright I couldn’t see clearly. As I stood there, we began to sing. A song we had sung together many times over the years. But, the significance of the song this time made my heart ache and warmed my soul at the same time.
I’ve got a mansion, just over the hilltop. In that bright land where we’ll never grow old. And some day yonder, we will never more wander, but walk on streets that are pure as gold.”
When I woke from my dream, I laid awake. I knew it was coming. Before the early sun began to rise on that snowy day after Christmas, I waited. The call came. She was gone.
I already knew. I had been there.
I was scared to share this dream with anyone. Worried that this phantasmagorical encounter would only sadden those that heard it. Or that no one would believe me.
But, to me, it was comforting. It was like I got to spend her last moments by her side. In my dream she didn’t look sick. She looked vibrant. And the words of the song only confirmed what I already knew- that she was headed for that land with streets of gold.
My grandmother feared death- I think she was mostly afraid of being forgotten. In the weeks prior to her passing she spent hours and hours painting us pictures, embroidering pillowcases, making sure we would all have mementos to remember her by. One of the last times I saw her she told me she was, “too busy to croak.” And that made me laugh. That was who she was. Never with idle hands. Always baking or sewing, and trying to feed us.
I’m thankful for the many years of happy memories I spent with my Mam. And I still miss her so much sometimes that it hurts- I burst into tears the other night during a commercial about a young girl and her grandmother. But, I am also thankful for that dream.
The one that revealed to me so much.
That let me spend one more moment with her.
I think of that dream often- how I truly believe that God sent that dream to me to ease the pain of her passing. I’m so thankful for those little types of blessings. They’re reminders that I have a heavenly Father who loves me, who comforts those that mourn.
