The End of a Long Journey

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I'm not sure why, but this story came to me when I read the WDC Birthday Bash Blog Relay's Day 1 prompt. So, even though it was not my turn to write the blog post, I had to write this story down. It is not the type or style of story I usually write.... but I hope it is written well enough to be worth reading


Slowly I return to consciousness. Instinctively, habitually, I reach out to the other side of the bed.

But it is empty and cold. He is no longer with me. When did he leave? Years ago, many years ago. I was abandoned by him... or did I let him go? I sigh, my thoughts no longer make sense to me. Logic is a distant memory to me, like the days when I wasn’t always in pain, when I could laugh and run.

I push myself to a sitting position and fumble for the walker, which I know is waiting beside the bed, ready to help an old woman out. My fingers touch the worn rubber grips, and a sense of camaraderie fills me. As though, my walker is a friend instead of an object. And in a way it is. It had always been there for me, I always had its support which allowed me a measure of freedom. …did I trade him for the walker?

I couldn't remember.

Slowly I force my legs off the side of the bed. I have made progress! I am now sitting on the side of the bed, leaning heavily on the walker.

When had sitting up become an accomplishment?

I scoot off the bed, and almost fall when all my weight falls on by my legs. But I remember the walker in time, and lean on it. After a few moments of breathing heavily, I managed to shuffle out into the kitchen. By the time I reach the table, I am already exhausted. I just got up, but I was ready to go back to bed. Unfortunately that would mean another arduous journey down the hall. Instead I fumble for a chair and fall into it.

"Gramma?" It sounds like a whisper.

Who calls me Gramma? My grandchild?

No. But if not that, then who?

"Gramma, what are you doing up so early?"

My great grandchild, I decided.

"Ch--" My voice stutters and stops. I try again. "Child, what time is it?"

"A'most 5." She replies, and then adds clarification, "In the morning."

I nod, or try to.

I didn't understand time anymore. It did not matter. My eyesight had long ago dimmed to the point that seeing was done by touch.

"What are you doing up so early?" I ask.

"Couldn't sleep." She replied cheerfully. "I was too excited."

I ponder that for a moment, but can't find the energy to ask why. I need not have wondered, she was so excited she continued on after that brief pause.

"It's your birthday today! Did you remember?"

I shake my head. Birthday?

"Can you tell me how old you are?" She asks.

Those words took me back, to when I was a child and people asked that. They were always so happy, so proud, if you could tell them. Have I made a full circle? Am I a child again?

"You'll be 120!" She exclaims in delight.

120... Such a long time. Too long.

There was something about that number that was important... but I couldn't remember... I couldn't remember much these days.

"I bet that's why you are feeling better today, isn't it?" Natalie asked. "You haven't left your room in weeks... well, unless Daddy made you."

I couldn't hear her move, but then I felt her hand rest on top of mine, where it still gripped the walker. It was soft and warm and made me think of Christmas.

"We will go to church later, and then come home and bake a cake, and play games and have fun!"

Church... That resonated somewhere deep inside. It was important. Like the number 120. Wasn't there something...?

Then I remembered. A smile curved my lips for the first time in years. "But his days shall be a hundred and twenty years."

I was going home.

But what should I say to my great grandchild? This lovely girl who was still talking about the wonderful things we would do today.

"Natalie." Her name came to me out of the blue. "I don't think I will be joining in the festivities today."

"But Gramma!" Natalie protested. "How can we celebrate without you?"

"I will be celebrating too, just not here..." But I knew that would not be enough for her. "It's like... Christmas! Christmas is a celebration of Jesus's birth, and we celebrate even though he is not with us."

"Oh." Natalie was quiet for a moment. "So you will celebrate with Jesus?"

I laugh. "Yes, Natalie, I will celebrate with Jesus."

---

Then, with a smile upon her lips, she died.

Natalie looked up and realized that her parents were standing in their bedroom doorway. From the looks of it, they had been standing there for a long time. Her father's arms were wrapped around her mother, who had silent tears leaking out of her eyes.

“Gramma went to celebrate with Jesus instead...” Natalie decided she needed to explain, so her mother wouldn't be sad anymore.

Her dad gently squeezed his wife, before he walked over to Natalie and picked her up. Natalie smiled as her mother came to stand next to them and kissed her on the forehead. “We know, honey, we know.”

And together they watched the sun rise on a new day.