The Cross

It was a small golden cross made of metal.  This cross was mysterious from the beginning.  I never really knew where it came from.  It was likely to have been given to me long ago, but I remember finding another one exactly the same just a few years ago… I have no idea where it came from.  When I went to visit Granddaddy at hospice, I stopped in the parking lot and pulled one of the crosses from my pocket.  I kept the other one so that Granddaddy and I could share this connection.  I held the cross tight in my hand and prayed for Granddaddy to feel God’s presence through this cross and that when it is time for him to go, that he goes peacefully and without pain.  I walked into the building and visited Granddaddy for the first time in this strange, scary, and yet oddly homey-looking place.  I gave him the cross and tried not to show my sadness at seeing him in the last place I ever imagined him being.  He always seemed so indestructible.  I cried harder than ever that night driving home.  It was as if God was helping me to get most of the emotion out so that I could be strong for him as it got closer to the end…. as I asked for in my prayer.  A few days later, I heard that Granddaddy was found in the morning lying on his back in the bed with the cross on his chest.  It was as if he was praying in the night and he felt the need to be close to the cross.  A day or so later, I came to visit him and played music on the guitar that we both love so much for him.  I noticed the cross was on the table next to him.  During my next visit to see Granddaddy, I noticed the cross was gone from the table, and I asked family members if they had seen it. Worried, I asked a nurse if she had seen it while changing the sheets on his bed.  No one knew where it was.  They said that they would keep an eye out for it.  A few days before Granddaddy passed away, I came to visit once again.  I looked up and there it was… the cross- sitting on the table next to him.  No one knew how it re-appeared.  The day that Grandaddy passed away, I played the guitar for him for the last time…. The last music he would ever hear… it felt like it wasn’t the glorious music I would want him to hear for the last time, but Granddaddy was the best Grandfather and I’m sure he loved the best that I could give him.  I knew that the music in heaven would be better than he could ever think it would be.  After Granddaddy passed away, the cross was given to me.  It now sits propped up on a frame containing a picture of Granddaddy and Nana that was given to each of the family members one Christmas. He looks so happy in the picture and proud to be with Nana. The cross sits next to me so that it can remind me that Granddaddy was a wise, loving, and Godly man that, as it seems, kept faith and peace till the end.  I miss you Granddaddy and I love you more than you ever knew.