I am linking here to an earlier post which fits exactly with today’s prompt.
365 Days of Writing Prompts: Tell us your story. Tell us about a journey — whether a physical trip you took, or an emotional one.
Ouma, tiny in stature, warm, loving, kind. I can smell the cooking from the minuscule, can’t turn around kitchen. The smell of acceptance and safety. I remember seeing her, I did not know it would be the last, fragile, yearning to go to her place in the heavens, (a deeply religious soul).
“…en ek sal in die huis van die HERE bly in lengte van dae.” (Psalm 23 – I will stay in the house of the Lord for the length of days).
Staring at the coffin, my heart constricts, fluid pouring from my eyes and nose, I wonder why it does not come out of my ears, I feel I am dying myself. It felt like the end, end of a home, a place of safety, an unconditional love. I felt I would never know such a place again. Not so much a place but an attitude. Years later I see her and feel her and I miss her, my grandfather, I miss him, (man of few words, teddy bear of a person, shrouded in pipe smoke, kind), wishing them well in whatever rebirth they have taken. Both my grandparents, down to earth, uncontrived. I have not met such people again. They were innocents in a complex manipulative world. Thank you Ouma and Oupa for your heartfulness. Life really only offers a few such opportunities if we are lucky. Lady luck, turn your gaze on me now.
Ouma and Oupa standing, first and second on the right.
Sign outside the cemetery, isn’t life ironic?
Oupa: 21-10-1900 to 01-09-1985, Ouma: 05-01-1902 to 26-08-1999.
Image purchased with my website template Theme Catch Evolution: Meaning and Mindfulness