Short Story: Grandfather

Great Essays
On the eve of Christmas, there were no excited whispers wondering what gift they’d receive, no licorice whips for the little one to enjoy. This year, as the last, Christmas would not be a happy occasion.
With pity in their eyes, Mary and Cynthia watched their mother lay there, each, wondering if there was something they could do, someone they could call on to help. Uriah had ridden over every week to check on them; many times, bringing them what little he could spare from caring for his own wife and children. He, too, was at a loss as to what to do. Sitting beside her bed, he begged his mother to get up and take care of her responsibilities; telling her that when someone dies, life goes on for the living… she did not respond.
When Martha’s
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“I want to die, Grandfather… my heart has died- I want to be with my husband!” Charity exclaimed.
“He wants you to live. He wants you to breathe life into your children. They still need you, Little One - Can you not see that they need you. Henry would not want your death,” Two Feathers said sternly.
“How do you know, Grandfather? How do you know what he would want; have you spoken to him?” Charity asked angrily.
“Tla, I know because you love him so deeply that you want to join him. He must be a strong, brave man, for you to give him your whole heart,” he said softly. Her grandfather’s words were beginning to sink in; tears stung her eyes and she cried in shame. She was ashamed that she had let her husband down… So busy was she, wallowing in her own misery, she could not, did not, want to think about what anyone else was feeling.
“I don’t know how to stop… What shall I do, Grandfather?”
“You will live- you will be strong. You will live for your lover- you will live for your children; and, you will live for me, Little One. When your earthly body no longer exists, you will become the Keeper of the Sacred Fire.”
“I thought you died many years ago, but you once told me that you are not dead- are you dead,
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When the black powder cleared, the gobbler was still flopping around on the ground. She rung his neck and then headed toward home, collecting a few herbs along the way. Squatting near the huckleberry thicket, she spotted fresh rabbit droppings and she saw that a wild boar had been rooting under the bushes there, foraging for food. The Turkey would be enough for today; she 'd come back for the rabbit and boar later. She stopped at the cave and got the tin she had stored several pounds of flour and meal in with bay leaves to keep the weevils out and took it with her- Her family was going to have Christmas dinner today!
Charity surprised the children when she came through the door toting the turkey she killed. They didn 't get presents or candy, they didn 't even decorate a tree, but it would be a day they would talk about for years to come and pass down from generation to generation, much the same as the Christmas they spent on the mountain in Canton, Georgia.
The herbs she gathered along with onions from the garden and the turkey drippings made a delicious pan of stuffing and giblet gravy to go with the roasted turkey. Even though many family members were missing from the dinner table, the children were very happy to have their mother back to her old self. Love can be a powerful force. Oftentimes, it transcends time, space, and even

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