When my Grandmother Whispered

                                                When My Grandmother Whispered

                                                          By Daryl Campbell



         Though I have no memory of my birth or the emotions expressed by those who were there in those long, desperate hours, I’ve always imagined happiness and love. With the relief of my mother’s burden finally lifted, I came into the world under the excitement of the potential my future held, and crying. After she heard of my success, my grandmother whispered to everyone, expressed her joy in the quiet, relaxed demeanor I became accustomed to over the next thirty eight years. This moment was the only thing I regret not seeing through her eyes. I would trade almost everything in my life to have witnessed the minutes after I was born, to have had her reactions and words etched deep in my memory.

         I saw the pictures and heard the stories of my first Christmas. The tree and presents were held for me at my grandmother’s until my parents were allowed to bring me home from the hospital. My grandmother told me of this often, always with a smile and in a soft voice that lent me the warmth of her memories. She was a relatively quiet woman as I grew and rarely gave more of any story than was absolutely necessary. I remember being a child and how she whispered at me when I misbehaved. She always wanted to help me find my way through the turmoil I strangely ended up in. It was during these first years that my grandmother’s strength of will, unwavering loyalty, and sound reasoning forged the man I will certainly be one day.

         My mother died when I was still young, twelve by most accounts, and I didn’t care as much for my father as I would years later, after we put aside our difficulties. This was rough and I became increasingly harder to get along with as time passed around me. I lost much during those years, more happy alone than trusting in someone, and I wasted so many more years as I aggravated and pushed everyone I knew as far as I could. I know now, I only tested to see who could survive the conflict and be there in the end. Only those who climbed through the fire and held out their hand to help me through the other side were worth my life. To this day, I only count seven. None who were ever fully happy with me, but none who turned on me and let me pass from memory.

         I always remembered my grandmother being there. She whispered to me and let me know there was someone who would stay through anything. She held to this idea and remained on my side through even the most awkward moments. Right or wrong, I was never alone in her thoughts. I can see the patience, most of which was undeserved, she had with me. I knew without a doubt she loved me. that she’d love me for all her days. I realized how easy it would have been for her to turn away from me during my young adulthood and take the easier route, but she didn’t. She stayed in the background, nudged me when I made an ass of myself, whispered her thoughts to me when I strayed from the norm. It was these whispers that remained in my thoughts as I became a man and had children of my own.

         My grandmother was there when each of my children were born. She always loved them from the moment they were born. It's something that has endeared her to me. Though she didn’t always agree with my choice to have a child, she never once held any resentment and she loved them as if they were her own. She whispered for me to take my time, to think about what I was doing. I could hear the soft concern in her voice, but never felt as if she wouldn’t be there for me or for them. Her choices weren’t always my own, but she only whispered and tried to show me the other side of reason.

         I failed many times as I went into my older life. Most things happened through my own fault and I made many, senseless mistakes. Though she whispered her displeasure with my actions often, my grandmother stayed by me. She saw things clearly at times with such an odd spin that many didn’t understand. I usually knew, and could see why she would whisper the things she did. My grandmother remained this way from my birth through the end of her life. She was always the same. She reacted differently at times, but the overall substance of the woman never once changed.

         People who knew her have said how loud she was, how her stories grew and grew, and how she could be so irrational. This is not who I see when I remember her. I see her caring, her loyalty, her strong will, her love, her definite line between right and wrong, and her unwavering support of family. I see my grandmother. I would never make her out to be something greater than she was, but all I have is the memory of the small boy I used to be. The boy that sat in his grandmother’s lap and loved her.

         I miss her now that she’s gone and I would like to sit in her lap just one more time and hear her whisper to me. When my grandmother whispered, her words shook my world.