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Show Inside Out, 43 And was I really believing this stuff? I really was. Stupidly, I really was. For years, I had believed in life after death. I had started believing after a conversation I had with my mom about the death of her own mom. I had been there that day when my grandma died, because she had been living at our house so Mom could take care of her. Sometimes my mom's friend Jaycee helped out with her, too. I was only nine, but I still remember it really clearly. I actually can't believe that Mom and Dad had let me watch the whole dying process, but they did. I guess they thought it was an important learning experience. Anyway, it was really hard to watch because Grandma sort of gasped a lot and then would stop breathing for a while and then gasp some more. I kept thinking maybe she had taken her last breath but then she'd come back for more. The home-nurse who was there said it was all really natural and we shouldn't panic but it was pretty bizarre. And then, when it really was her last breath, it was the strangest thing. Her body just sort of sighed, and it reminded me of when I carry a full bucket outside to wash the car and my hand sort of cramps around the handle. Then when I put the bucket down, my fingers stay curled for a minute, and I think it's going to hurt when I uncurl them, but then it feels so good to stretch them out. It was like my grandma had been curled around her life so tightly that it was hard to uncurl, but when she did it must have felt really good. And then her face looked so smooth and happy-ish. It really looked like she had seen something good and gone to a good place. Later, Mom and I talked about it. I asked, "Is there really a place people go to after they die?" |
