Grandmother's Message from Beyond
This is a true story which happened fifteen
years ago. One day I came home and found paramedics on the living room floor
trying to revive my grandmother. Twenty minutes before, my mother had entered
her room and found her with her mouth wide open and a "strange" look
on her face. After trying to rouse her and getting no response, she called the
ambulance.
Paramedics tried for about an hour to revive her,
to no avail. We were informed that she may have been dead for much more than
the fifteen-minute limit during which CPR is considered effective. And so she
was declared dead and shortly thereafter officials from the coroner’s office
arrived and took the body away
Several hours later, returning home from our
relatives’ after informing them of grandmother’s death, we opened the door
to our apartment and, much to our disbelief noticed, on the floor in the
middle of the living room, a white pigeon. At first I was afraid, but then my
mother told me not to worry, that that was "abuela" (Spanish for
"grandma"), and that she was trying to send us a message. It calmed
my nerves a bit, though I still decided to take a trip to the grocery store
while they dealt with this surprising guest.
My grandmother had professed interest in the
supernatural throughout her life. Often as a child I'd go to her after
dreaming the night before and ask her for the meanings behind the dreams, and
she'd proceed to tell me. For example, I once dreamed that I was running from
an angel. She’d later tell me not to worry, that it meant that I was being
taken care of by a higher force. But her uncanny abilities weren’t limited
to dream interpretation: Once she told me that the Mets would win the World
Series after trailing and coming back, and gave me a final score, which was
very close to the actual one.
We no longer live in that apartment. It goes
without saying, however, that I still get chills whenever I think of that day.
Was it my grandmother, trying to send a message from beyond? I’m convinced
that it was. Wherever she is, I’m sure that she’s happy, and I’ll never
forget our encounter with the bird fifteen summers ago.
Andy E.
