That sent wierd chills through my stomach as well as warm fuzziness..
On the day my Granny died, whilst walking up the hill after school, some random lady started up a conversation until we had to turn different ways. The talk was general and I'm pretty shy/rubbish at conversing with people, but I do remember her telling me not to worry before she crossed the road.

The only reason I remember it or attach any significance was that on turning the corner I saw my Dad coming down the hill to meet me. This was doubly strange.

Sure enough, he'd come down to tell me the bad news - we car-pooled with another family, so he wanted me to find out in private why we weren't going to the hospital as planned - Granny had died quite suddenly a few hours earlier. She'd had pancreatic Cancer and was given 6 months to live, but it still took everyone by surprise.

She'd told my Mum only the week before to "..Stop being such a worrying fusspot, go to work in Germany, I'll still be here when you get back and this is important for you." (The blunt no-nonsense essence of the statement as she didn't speak any English.. she was a unfazeably practical lady who voluntarily emmigrated twice to look after her grandkid, while the parents had to work.)

Mum never forgave herself for going, despite Gran practically ordering her to. And my argument of well, (a) she told you to, (b) neither of you were to know, and (c) she's probably angrier at your scene-making, cut no ice with her.

Me, despite everyones expectations of a blubbering wreck of a 13-year old, kept pretty quiet and dealt. I share her extreme pragmatism and practical approach to things, but partially due to the feeling she'd not completely left. Our house had been her little kingdom, and her personality was all over it. Odd quirks liek that stranger just strengthened that conviction - that she was there, but I just couldn't see her anymore.


I admit to being a sniffling 26 yr old right now.. just come back from 2 weeks at my parents new house, digging a vegetable patch for them last week made me think how much the old lady would have loved the place, pottering about clucking in Polish like a contented chicken. Growing things was her obsession, and cooking giant fabulous dinners :D

Heres to awesome grandparents, kind strangers, and comforting coincidences. *raises tv dinner*
(Hikikomori** watching cartoons on, Wed 8 Oct 2008, 19:44, Reply)