https://Voice.club - “Now we must keep her comfortable.”
I heard the words Gran’s doctor didn’t say. There was no hope.
Gran came home to stay with me, in her own room, with a special bed. I was her only family, but a nurse visited every day. We would help Gran to her chair by the window, so she could look out to her garden, covered for the winter.
The weather was awful that March. It pained me to think that Gran’s last days would be so cold. Whenever I imagined Gran, it was always in the garden in the summer. I’d beg to pick cherry tomatoes off the vine and her answer was always the same.
“Yes, of course, dear.”
The sound of those words and the sweet taste came to mean love to me.
Gran had spoken less and less over the past months, but she understood what I was saying. I always spoke as if that were so, anyhow. Gran’s nurse encouraged me in this. She also suggested I tell Gran the day and the date every morning when she woke up.
“It helps her keep in touch,” she explained.
When I heard Gran stirring that morning, I headed to her room.
“Good morning, Gran. It’s Saturday, March 25th.”
I was headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on when I heard a soft, small voice.
“Freeze.”
Gran hadn’t spoken for a week or more. I could hardly believe what I’d heard. But then she spoke again.
“Freeze.”
“Yes, it’s certainly cold today,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Do you need an extra blanket?”
Gran shook her head. “Freezer. And bin.”
Then I knew what she meant. The seeds were in the freezer in the garage and the seed potatoes in the bin next to it.
It hit me. March 25th. Lady Day, Gran always called it. Spring’s real start.
“Shall we start planting?” I asked.
Gran smiled. “Yes, of course, dear.”
I headed to the garage. Even in the darkest time, when hope is gone, something just as powerful remains. Perhaps it’s love.