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Everlasting Love

I love knowing that there is a place here in Live Simply Love Knitting, where you can find inspiration of a different kind.

picture of a luminous sunset

I don’t know your faith. I don’t even know if you have faith. What I do know, is that faith is available to everyone who wants it. It doesn’t cost anything, because FAITH is freely given.

Just an FYI, I am Catholic. Always have been, always will be. My belief is that we are ALL called to holiness. ALL given salvation by Jesus Christ when he lived on earth and established his Church over two millennia ago.

What I believe, why I believe, how I believe, are all my own convictions. I won’t dispute them here, nor will I promote them here, either.

But, I love a good story just like you do, so here’s a wonderful little story.

And it’s a TRUE story.

There once was a man who was dying of cancer. He was only in his mid-fifties and had a wife and daughter, as well as two grand daughters.

When there was nothing more the hospital could do for him, they sent him home. There he lived out the last days of his life. Where once he had been a strong, healthy man, he now knew his days were dwindling down.

This man was tended to by his wife and daughter in a spare room in their home. Towards the end he would lapse into a semi-comatose state; waking fitfully now and then.

On the day before he died, this man was surrounded by his family. They were watching him closely; perhaps hoping he would rally. Then suddenly, he did something rather odd.

Sitting up in his bed, he took his arm out from under the covers and looked at his wrist as if he were reading the time on a watch. Although there was no watch on his arm. He studied and studied his wrist for a minute or so, then simply said, “it’s 1232.”

Actually, it was still mid-morning and his wife and daughter assured him that it was only 10:00 in the morning. He lay back down, and seemed to drift in and out of consciousness until he died the next day.

There had been no funeral or cemetery plans made in advance. Once the wake and funeral had taken place, and the wife of this man received information on his burial plot, there were the numbers

1232

It turned out to be that that was the number of his grave in St. Gertrude’s cemetery in Colonia, NJ.

The man who was dying was my grandfather. My mother’s father.

Picture of my grandfather John Mydosh

He had worked all his life for the Exxon Corp., formally known as Esso. He was from Bayonne, NJ, but moved to Elizabeth during the Depression in order to keep working for his family.

Most of all, I remember my grandfather as a quiet, loving man. My mother told me how he would be on his knees every day in morning prayer, how if he was even five minutes late to mass, he would stay for the entire next mass. He died when I was 7 years old.

I haven’t seen my grandfather in EVER so long; I often think to myself he wouldn’t even know me! I’m a long way from that little 7 year old he used to see.

He could be grumpy, and in a bad mood, but those times were rare. I recall how he would grind coffee in a little red coffee grinder he had. And we would get in his red Ford to go pick up my grandmother who worked about a half mile from the house at a factory. How he would always tell people he had a girlfriend who had blonde hair (that was me).

After he passed, my mother told me that my grandfather had appeared to her one night when she awakened to find him standing at the foot of her bed. He said nothing, only his presence left her with the impression that everything was all right and that he was in a better place.

After that, she said, she never feared death.

I know in my heart of hearts, that my grandfather was “seeing” something on his wrist which we do not see. No magic, no hocus-pocus, no charms, just a vision into the next life.

My grandfather was Polish Catholic. He lived and died by his faith. That’s enough for me.

Picture of my grandmother Estella Mydosh

My grandmother, who was also Polish, was a remarkable woman. She did nothing out of the ordinary, yet, my life would have been SO impoverished if not for her presence within it.

But, now I’m convinced that my grandfather will know me for sure the next time I see him. Because of everlasting love. Which neither dissipates, nor dissolves over time.

Do YOU have stories like this one? Who do you remember best from your childhood?

Just a little whimsy for your day!

Because you need “homekeeping solutions for crafting your best life!”

And a little inspiration goes a long way!