The more skeptical, realist type of
people don’t believe in things like I’m about to tell you, but I do. They’d have you believe that my grandma’s
death came from having to do really hard work while growing up and not being
able to afford top quality medical care while being young. Others, who are more open minded to odd
happenings, like me, say that the following story could have had something to
do with it.
Recalling from memory, this is what
my grandmother told me. When she was in
her early twenties, she worked as a nurse at the West Georgia Medical Center
hospital. A lady who she didn’t know,
but who apparently knew her, approached her in the lobby. She talked to my grandmother for a bit and
seemed to have something she wished to give to her clenched in her fist. When my grandmother opened her hand to
receive the trinket, the odd lady placed a quarter in her palm. The moment this quarter touched my
grandmother’s skin, a sharp, unbearable pain shot throughout her arm. She immediately dropped the coin, and the
pain subsided. After looking up from
examining her hand, the lady was gone.
Could the pain my grandmother felt have been a curse, or hex if you
will, being placed upon her?
In a way, I believe both the first
and second stories. Whichever one you
choose to believe, the grim reality is still the same. My grandmother, for reasons beyond her
control, unfortunately fell victim to a barrage of illnesses such as heart
problems, diabetes, lupus, kidney failure, etc.
Once the hospital called that
Saturday morning, I knew that instant what had been said to my mother by seeing
the tears in her eyes. When she told me,
to my surprise, I did not cry. I walked
to my bedroom and began getting ready to go to my paternal grandmother’s house
so that my mom could go to Atlanta to see about things with my grandmother’s passing. I didn’t cry about it for years in fact. Looking back, how clearly I can see the shock
and denial inhabiting my mind over the matter.
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