Before I start. I did ask my father if this was okay to write up, out of respect. He said yes. I nixed some information for privacy.
The story starts in the 80s. And follows a timeline going into decades.My grandfather, on my fathers side and I were close in life. He lived a short 3 or 4 minute bike ride away. He was a WW2 veteran. I would go over to play Nintendo with him, watch classic horror shows on TV, like the Gallery from the 60s. Sit on his lap so he could read me books.
As I got older we still remained close. But my life became more busy with my college studies and part time work. I still went over on weekends when I could. And still did holidays. We might have not followed the same beliefs, but I did still include myself in the holidays and celebrations. My bond with him was important to me and I respected him.
One day during college, my mother called me on my old block like an analogue cellphone to call her back. It was an emergency with my grandfather. I raced to the phone booth and called her back. Had limited minutes on my cell phone.
She said, 'Your grandfather just got rushed into the hospital. I'm coming to the college to pick you up."
I said, "Okay, I'll meet you out front."
I let my teacher know and left with my mom. The hospital was not far from the college.
I ran into the emergency room and met my dad there. My grandpa was awake and with him. I went over and held my grandfather's hand. He looked terrified. I've never seen him scared before. He looked me dead in the eye in fear and said, "I don't want to DIE!"
I tightened my grip on his hand and said I was there for him.
The surgery team came out and quickly took him upstairs.
Some of my dads family and I went up to the ICU waiting room.
Hours later he came back from surgery alive. However he ended up in a coma. Later on we found out that sepsis was flooding his body quickly. Over the next 3 days, I was cycling, sleeping at the hospital but then going to college during the day.
One the 3rd day, I was in class and my mother called me and told me that he's on his way out. I excused myself and she picked me up again. I got to the hospital and sat in the ICU waiting room again. I took turns with my fathers family in my grandfather's tiny ICU room. He just looked like he was sleeping. Minus his hands and feet so black and blue due to sepsis. I knew it was not toxic to me or bad to touch. So I held his hand. I looked beside me at his vitals. They were good. And he had no 'death rattle'. However the sepsis was taking over more and more.
I took a break and did some homework in the ICU waiting room where cots were set up. Later on late at night. The nurse came in and said its time. I went in with my mother as the nurse turned off the vitals monitor sound.
I held his hand tightly and said to him in a gentler whisper. "It's alright Papa. I'm here, we're all here. I know you fought hard...it's okay if you have to go."
Some of my dads family came in to say their goodbyes. I remained there the whole time.
My mother stood beside me. She asked, "Are you okay with seeing this?
I said. "..Yes..I need to be here with him.."
Moments later, I saw the orbs of light begin to fall from the ceiling with my physical eyes. I was confused. Then the ceiling opened up as if a portal of light began to swallow the rest of the ceiling above my grandfather. It reminded me of the movie Ghost a bit.
I was raised in a Catholic household. However, I never followed it due to some deep rooted reasons. In my mind and beliefs, my mothers side is Indigenous. it just seemed like a dimensional world of light. Of where good spirits and energy seem to come forth from. As if his ancestors were coming forward to guide him, where he needed to be now. I began to see long semi transparent arms reach out towards him. Then more orbs of light. Some looked more like bubbles in consistency. Some of the light seemed streaky, like how rays of sunlight pierce through clouds a certain way and effect.
I looked downward at my grandfather. I could see similar hands coming up from under his head. Cupped his head on either side and gently pushed his head upwards and forward. But instead of his physical head being lifted, it was his soul being taken out. I saw his closed eyes a bit and as more of his body was lifted it began to become more of just a blurry light. Until it became a large wispy orb, half the size of his physical body. I did not cry or reach out for it. The orb slowly floated into the bright portal above his bed at the ceiling. After it was gone. The portal slowly faded and the ceiling lights and tiles were returned to sight again.
I whispered to my mother if she saw it? She said no, but she felt something warm and loving. His heart and brain were still going but slowing now. Until they stopped.
My dads family rushed in thinking he was just about to pass. I said nothing. My mother always told me. Don't tell anyone. It was still very taboo in 2002.
However....I came out of the closet per say….2 days later.
I was at the generational home. Where my grandfather lived. It was a functioning morgue over a century ago. And very much haunted with wandering spirits. Including some from family that passed in the home in my lifetime. And others from previous generations.
I went upstairs to my grandfather's study. It was off limits when he was alive. The after funeral party was below on the main floor. I was in my 20s now and more adapted to handling spirits than when I was a child. I looked in his chair and grabbed a blue inked pen and some blank paper. I was just going to sketch, while the family talked and mingled below to get some quiet time for myself. I could hear some footsteps and some doors opening and closing up there with me. Then whispers. I quietly walked into the hallway and asked if the spirits could quiet a bit more. I understood why they were upset. They did and I went back into his study.
I don't remember much for a bit after that. I think I tranced out without even knowing. All I recall is drawing something then writing something on the paper. Then walking downstairs. Interrupting the kitchen conversations. Placed whatever I created onto the fridge with magnets then spoke. I remember my dads family looking pale from what I was saying. But then began to cry and thank me. Then I felt like myself again....
Fast forward, over a decade later. I was a passenger in a car. The first person caused the initial hit in the accident. As I saw it coming at me!!
I yelled out. "I don't want to DIE!" Similar to what my grandfather said when he was scared.
Then I saw a warm light begin to surround me and felt comforted in a way. The first impact hit me hard. The car was badly damaged. Shortly after, another driver caused the second impact. My chronic severe injuries were permanently sealed that day. The car I was in was totaled. The passengers' side seemed to have been surrounded in a bubble in a way. All around it was crushed and compacted into itself. If I was in those areas I would have died.
Fast forward again. After what felt like 7 or 8 years worth of doctor appointments. And going through mentally and physically exhausting events. My grandfather came forward to me in vivid dreams. In my culture, it's called Journeying. He helped me get through that rough time. From life lessons to allowing me to cry in his arms. Sometimes he would let me see flashbacks in 3rd person perspective. Of his time in WW2. Upon doing so, it helped me learn how to keep a strong resolve through it all.
Once that was over with. He told me he had to step back for a bit. And let me figure out stuff on my own for a while.
Many years later after that, he continues to show up from time to time. To let me know he's still around, I still vent to him. And helps me with my ever on-going, life changing permanent brain injury and epilepsy. And the daily challenges those entail.