A comfort?

Ad Blocker Detected

Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors. Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

I was thirteen when my grandmother, Minnie McClendon,  died in 1952. I loved  her dearly and was grief-stricken by  her sudden death. My parents, Donald and Jessie McClendon, and I traveled to Moran, Texas, for the funeral.

While there I sometimes thought I heard my grandmother’s  voice calling me from the kitchen  in her familiar way, “Honey,  come on out in the  kitchen with me.” Each time I almost answered before  remembering she was dead, The I would  break into sobs.

Through some confusion, I didn’t  get to sit with my parents next to Grandmother’s casket at the funeral, and I  resented this.

The following day we returned home to Eastland, Texas. I was very tired. That night in bed I was  about to drop off  to sleep, but when I rolled over on my side facing the window I bolted wide awake.

There stood Grandmother beside my bed in her light-blue funeral gown, her long hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. I was so startled I hid my  face. When I look again she was gone.

Now, years later, I often wonder if Grandmother came to comfort me because of my grief and disappointment at not getting to sit next to her casket.

Beverly Hutcheson

Tijeras, New  Mexico

April 1974

Leave a Reply