Heavens Gain

Heavens Gain by Sophia Storey-Hogg
It is 5:00 in the evening as I sit and watch the world go by my window; the steam from my freshly brewed cup of tea caresses my face and warms my hands as I watch a silver cloak settle in on top of the rooftops.  The sounds of rain pounding against the window like the throbbing of my heart as I ponder life gone by: the hurt the pain, the laughter and joy, the memories of you.  Can it really be 14 years since the last I saw your face, it feels like only yesterday. There is so much that you missed, so much I regret not saying to you, so many times I needed you; when I got my first job, when I started working away, for you to have held me when I lost my babies, make me laugh when I had my heart broken, been there on my wedding day, I needed you so much!  Most of all, I wish you could have met Billy and our children. 
If only you could have been there when I had my first child; he reminded me so much of you.  I recall putting him down for those first few naps, for the life of me, I couldn't get him to settle.  I remember trying all ways to calm him: on his front, on his back, on his side.  Nothing worked.  Eventually my Mother suggested, "Have you tried putting him on a cushion?"  Flash backs of being a child and waking you from your afternoon nap sparked in my mind.  Opening the door to see you snoring away with your knees tucked tightly under your chest and your blanket cover bottom high in the air.  I remember giggling at the amusing sight.  That can't be comfy, I'd think to myself as you'd drowsily stir from your slumber.  "Slept like that all his life" my Grandmother would tell me with a little laugh. 
That night I finally got some rest.  Looking down at my little bundle of joy, bum in the air snoring onto his pillow.  My heart soared! 'Just like his great Granddad,' I felt like I had a little part of you back.
Being a teenager I recall coming to your house in my lunch break, living around the corner from my school I got to see you almost daily.  Stepping into your house the smell of burnt toast would tickle my nose, the kettle whistling away on the hob ready to be poured into my cup of tea waiting on the bench.  Everyday you'd ask me "Blackcurrant or strawberry?" knowing I always picked the same.  As we'd sit eating our food and watching MTV you would tell me about music videos you'd seen that day and I would tell you about all the things I'd learnt.  You would always be sitting on the floor in the living room with your legs tucked tight under your bottom, dressed in your dark grey suit trousers and a crisp white shirt, your clothes were too good to be gracing the ground.  I loved those times we spent together.
Six years later and winter had arrived; I came to visit you one turbulent night, rain and sleet battered my back as I ran up the drive trying to escape the frenzy of weather assaulting the earth.  Opening the door heat and yellow fish permeated the air, not one of my favourite smells.  Straight away you looked out of sorts, "What's wrong Granddad?" I remember asking.
"My throat hurts, it's been sore for a few days.  Am back at the doctors tomorrow to see what's going on," you replied.  As you were taken straight into hospital I never got to see you much with being so far away, the times I did manage to get in you looked so different, always an oak of a man, you were now frail and fading away, your skin translucent and hanging off your bones as your life slipped away.  It made me sad to see the longing on your face as the other patients around you ate their dinners making your mouth water for just one bite.  Attached to drips they tried to extend your life and make you as comfortable as possible, always keeping your spirits up talking of holidays next year.  I'll eternally love you for that, your courage in the face of adversity was truly shaping and changed me forever.
I met a nurse one day crying in the corridor as I arrived for a visit and she told me of you, "It's such a shame," she whimpered, "such a good man, all he has done for charity, keeping us laughing every day."  She had only known you a few weeks and already she saw the goodness you brought to people's lives. 
On the 7th November you left my life.  I've never seen so many people attend a funeral.  My Grandmother, grief etched on her face, stood proud as she surveyed everyone who attended your final day.  People packed shoulder to shoulder in their seats with tears of sorrow running down their faces as the vicar bestowed your final farewell; the church doors were pinned open as extra people filled the court yard all wishing to pay their respects for such a fine man.  At the time it was too agonising to appreciate but looking back now a truly admirable sight to behold.  I didn't stay for the wake; it was just too much for me.  I wish now that I was stronger, that I could have stayed and listened to people tell stories of you but unfortunately I left and that I will always regret.
After you passed, life was bleak, I spiralled out of control not quite handling the loss of your passing; I partied and drank excessively, anger ate at me like a disease, I missed you so much that my heart stung.  When I lost my first baby grief trundled over me like a steam roller.  I wrote you a letter and put it on your grave clutching at some semblance of peace, a connection to you that never came, I even went so far as to visit a few psychics always trying to find my way back to you but most were frauds or you never showed.
A few years later a friend suggested that we go see Hewey; he was known for being one of the best psychics around.  It had been years since you passed and as much as I'd wished to get a message I didn't hold much faith.  I can imagine what your response would be to me seeing a psychic in the first place, "Bloody charlatans the lot of them." 
As we sat in the waiting room giggling at what he might say, my mind switched to you.  Still lost in thought Hewey called me into his room and asked me to take a seat.  Stepping over the threshold the familiar perturb turned my stomach as I glanced at the huge antique carved oak table with magnificent wing-back chairs taking pride of place in the centre stage, thick velvet crimson curtains framed the period windows lining the courtly room littered with the heavy ornate sculptures and statues.  Hewey, his personality as flamboyant as his decorating, hummed and hared as he went about describing my past and present: you've got three children, you're with a fair haired man who works with the ground, he loves you completely, the information he gave was so precise it set me on edge until he finally said those words, "I've a man here with me, he's very tall, in a dark blue suit, his throat - oh the pain in his throat, cancer! But it didn't start there, it was further down" he stated with a slight tilt of his head putting his hand to his gullet.  "He looks a bit like the BFG," he blurted, his voice raised an octave.  "He has a message for you."  Immediately tears streamed down my face, after all these years you'd came, when I was finally happy! You came.  I remember how Hewey said you laughed as you described my relationship with Billy saying, "Chalk and cheese, they shouldn't work but somehow they do." A truer word he couldn't have said. 
He told me of photographs hanging in my house, rooms decorated in certain ways; how you loved Luca's spirit and Denni's flare; about watching over my Mother and the worry you held for her.  I finally realised after all that time, after so many years of turmoil that you never really left.  I disrespected your memory by letting grief rule my life and it was all a waste.
My soul still feels heavy at the loss of you and I think it always will, but I take great comfort in the lessons you have taught me about strength and fortitude, humility and respect but above all else, love.  I'm honoured to have known you and the knowledge that you are always with me and watching over me, guiding me from afar, will forever sooth my heart.