“Sarah.”

Sarah awoke at the sound of her grandmother’s voice and answered, hurrying to her side. It was the fourth day of Christmas, the morning not yet dawned and as she held her hands, it felt a little cold. “Grandma,” she whispered, a dreadful fear creeping her heart. “How are you feeling? What can I do for you?”
Grandma opened her eyes and smiled at her granddaughter, one last smile as the light in her eyes slowly faded and she said, in a weak and trembling voice, “The Lord’s blessings will follow you my child, for you have done good. I do not want to leave you but my body has become too old and ill, the angels await but do not cry, my dear Sarah, you won’t be alone. I bless you.”
She closed her eyes and Sarah cried, “Grandma!” as the cold hands went limp in hers. She sat there for a long time crying quietly, grief like a thunderstorm in her heart.
“Why so soon, grandma?” she cried, “Why couldn’t you stay a little longer?”
Like dried leaves scattered in the wind, the old woman’s life was gone beyond the windowless skies, a body left to return to the dust from where it had been created. Memories will linger forever, her name will be spoken, stories will be recounted of her life, her time, a woman of pure values and undefeated principles in her old-fashioned world, where thoughts and ideals are treasured.
She had left a rich legacy for her granddaughter but for now, Sarah couldn’t stop crying. Her grief was too deep for she felt life was unfair, first her husband departed leaving her with an unborn child and now her grandmother, her closest family who had taken care of her since babyhood.
“I’m all alone now,” she cried.
“You’re not alone, my child.” The elderly pastor comforted her. “The Lord is always with you and so are we, we are your family.”
Ronald came by later that evening but she could hardly speak to him, unable to control her grief and the tears. He comforted her the best way he could, lending a strong shoulder for her to lean on. He had a long discussion with the Pastor and he took control of everything that had to be done for grandma’s funeral.
Sarah was given some medication to rest her fragile mind, a couple of the younger residents taking care of Isabella but the child couldn’t stay away from her mother for too long.
Ronald stayed late into the night and he spoke to her,
“Are you feeling any better?”
“A little,” she said, sighing.
He took her hand in his and said, “Sarah, I understand, how deep you feel about your loss but you need to be strong, It’s what your grandmother would have wanted of you and Isabella needs her mother.”
She nodded, tears trickling down her face and he gently wiped her tears saying to her quietly, “I want you to know you’re not alone, you have me.”
He embraced her for a moment, until he felt her body relaxing then he kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“I want you to sleep tonight with a peaceful mind. I’ll be back in the morning.”
Sarah closed her eyes but couldn’t sleep, so many thoughts, memories of her girlhood days spent with her grandmother, the struggles and the good times.
“How does my mind stay strong, knowing you’re gone?” she questioned herself, “Did I care for you enough? Did I love you enough?”
Questions bothered her mind, answers not too clear but as the clock ticked, she remembered Ronald’s words and she looked at the sleeping child beside her. She kissed her cheek, softly, tenderly and she whispered,
“He’s right, I have to be strong for you, as my grandma was for me.”
Saying ‘Goodbye’ forever though, to someone she had spent all her life with was not something easy for her, her calm mind crashing as she bid her farewell. Ronald was close by her side but for those final moments, Sarah could see no one nor hear no one.
She opened her eyes, slowly, not sure where she was, low voices in the background and a child crying quietly.
“Isabella,” she called, sitting up as she regained her senses.
An elderly relative was trying to rock the restless child to sleep and on seeing her mother, she stretched her arms out, rejoiced. Sarah embraced her and whispered softly, “I’m sorry, my baby.”
They had lost each other for that period when emotions like rushing water through a broken dam had lost its control. Such was the pain of losing one, close and dear, like a deep ravine.
Ronald came in to check on her for the umpteenth time and saw her sitting with the child in her arms and he sighed with deep relief.
“Are you okay now?”
She nodded but not certain enough to convince him and he hugged her, a casual embrace for they were in the presence of family and friends.
“You really gave me a scare when you lost consciousness like that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I couldn’t accept the fact, she was leaving forever.”
“It’s okay,” he said in a comforting voice, understanding her feelings. “It won’t be easy for you, but you’ll have to try and I’m here for you.”
She smiled weakly, leaning her hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
It was in the script of the story written in Heaven that continued to unfold.
The days went by as Sarah tried to stem the flow of her emotions, living her life alone now, again, relatives and friends returning to their homes and lives.
Fond memories were written, invisible words on everything in Grandma’s little old house, that was her palace, she the Queen for her mind was rich with kindness, love and faith in the Lord.
Ronald could not come by every day because of his business engagements, but he made sure she and Isabella had all the basic necessities and comfort.
Life in the community had taken a turn for the better, the residents becoming like her family.
Not a day went by without someone not stopping by to talk with her, asking for her ideas on little projects, issues on church and family. She had become, without realising it, an important and admired person in the poor community.
Three months passed and one morning, just before breakfast, Ronald stopped by before his daily business engagements to see how she was doing.
He brought for her a fresh rose, the colour of lilac.
She had prepared a small breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast and he sat with her, sharing those moments that gave her day a good beginning.
This morning though was a little different, for there seemed to be something on his mind.
“Sarah,” he said, the deep look in his eyes, she had seen on Christmas day that spoke of love and passion.
“You’re too lonely here, I want you to come and live with me.”
She looked at him, a little stunned, not expecting to hear those words.
“How can I? Your world and mine are so different.”
“My world,” he said, touching her face gently, “will become yours.”
She didn’t know what to say, uncertain, of what to do, memories, still fresh and ties to the community strong.
“I don’t know,” was all she could say.
“Think about it,” he said, as he kissed her goodbye, “You can help this community more if you develop into a person of strength and character, in modeling their lives and giving your child the best of everything.”
She battled with her thoughts all day, a bright future beckoning but sadness in her heart to leave the little, old house with such cherished memories. Ronald came back that night and as they talked, she asked him,
“How long would you like me to stay?”
He looked at her for a long moment before answering, “Forever, I would like.”
Two weeks later, she left the poor, little community and the little old house, a simple poor, young woman whose life had always been rags to a new life of riches.
She stood with her child in her arms, dressed in simple casuals, a small bag in her hand, looking at the magnificent house, that she wasn’t sure she could enter she had wished for something good but not in her wildest dreams, could she had known it would be this good.
The door opened and Ronald walked towards her, something she had thought was impossible and he took her hand.
“Come in, this is now your home.”
She took his hand and entered. her Heart racing, the rich, ornate furnishings and paintings and décor, taking her breath away and the most beautifully decorated Christmas tree, she had ever seen. Tears gathered in her eyes, wetting her cheeks and he embraced her, kissing away her tears.
“Don’t cry, Sarah, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered, quietly, a little tremor in her voice. Standing there in his embrace, seeing the love in his eyes, feeling the passion of his kiss was what her heart had wished for something good for the New Year.
A happy ending. A story written in Heaven.

(By Maureen Rampertab)