25

My miracle

It wasn’t anger I felt as I ran away, it was more than that. It was confusion. It was injustice. It was rage. And I needed to get it out before it got bigger than me.

When I reached the water’s edge, I picked up a stone and hurled it into the sea as hard as I could. It felt good, so I threw another and another until my arms got tired and then I shouted at the sky about how unfair everything was and I screamed until my throat got sore.

Slowly, I felt a shift inside me. The rage had passed, but in its place came another feeling. A deep overwhelming sadness.

I dropped to my knees and I cried.

I cried for Grams and Mom and Alan, but also for me. Okay, a lot for me. I cried big fat sobs of sadness all for me. I cried and I cried until the tears and the snot ran dry. But I wasn’t ready to stop so I forced myself to keep crying even though it wasn’t really crying anymore. I was just making loud noises that sounded a lot like the seagulls that were squawking overhead.

And then someone said, “That’s it, get it all out.”

Embarrassment flushed through me and I swung around to see who had caught me in full meltdown mode. The sun was shining directly in my eyes, so I couldn’t make out who it was.

Then they said something that made my insides jump. They said, “Come on now, my brave little soldier.”

Only one person in the entire world called me their little soldier.

I shielded my eyes with my hand and blinked furiously and before I even had time to think, I heard myself say, “Grams?”

“Who else?” She stepped toward me and I could see it was her. “Now come here and give your old Grams a hug, I don’t have long.”

“But you’re dead.”

“Yes, I realize that, Fred. But I also realize when my grandson needs me.”

“But you’re dead,” I said again. “You got a certificate and everything.”

“A certificate? Well, that’s something. But I’m not here to talk about me. I know about me. And while I might be dead, I’m still your Grams. Understand?”

I nodded even though I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand at all. It certainly sounded like Grams. I blinked again. It also looked like Grams—maybe a little bit more twinkly around the edges—but I would know that whiskery chin anywhere.

“Have you come from heaven?”

“Where did you think I’d be? I’ve washed enough of your and your father’s dirty underpants to earn my place up there three times over.”

“Is this real? Are you really here?”

“I’m either real or a figment of your imagination that you have produced as a way to process a recent emotional shock. I’ll let you decide which. Now, do you mind telling me why we’re both standing on a beach on the most western part of Wales, looking for—”

She closed her eyes for a moment and I could tell she was struggling to say the name.

Eventually she forced a smile and said, “Alan Froggley.”

I made a little circle in the sand with my foot. “I thought it would all be okay, that I’d be happy if I found Alan Froggley.”

Grams looked heavenward. “Lord give me strength. You thought Alan Froggley was going to make you happy? Why on earth would you think that?”

My eyes started stinging like I might cry again. “Because family makes you happy—you told me that. You even put it on one of your sweaters.”

“Oh, Fred, is that what you thought?”

I noticed that while she was still sparkly around the edges, her body was starting to fade. I rubbed my nose roughly with my sleeve, then looked at her accusingly. “Well, I don’t have very much family left, do I?”

“That depends on your definition of family. I think you’ve been using the wrong one.”

“I have?”

“You have, but I’m sure you’ll work it out soon enough. Now, I definitely asked for a hug quite some time ago.”

She pulled me into her and filled me up with the smell of lavender and mints.

“Don’t go,” I said.

She held my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. Her twinkly edges were spreading across her whole body. “Don’t go? I can’t very well stay here, can I? And besides, you have another grandma to watch after you now.”

“Another grandma?”

“Hilda. Just promise you won’t go liking her more than me. Or I will come down and smite you.”

“I won’t,” I blubbered. And then I said, “Is smiting an actual thing then?”

“You’d better believe it. Now come along, no more tears—you’ll be fine. The world’s a wonderful place, Freddie. It’s full of adventures and heroes and miracles, for those who go looking.”

I nodded and tried to be brave and not cry.

“I love you, Fred.”

“I love you, Grams.”

It was getting harder to see her as the sparkles were so bright.

“Gosh, I almost forgot! Tell your father to use the picture of me in the blue cardigan on the front of my funeral program. He’s picked the one of me in the peach twinset and it does nothing for my complexion.”

She turned to leave.

But a thought rose up in my mind. If Grams was here, then did that mean . . . I couldn’t let her go without asking. “Wait!” I shouted. “Did you see her?”

Grams smiled and nodded. “Look behind you.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned.

It was my mom and she looked like stardust.

I hugged her, and she smelled of sea air and rose petals.

She rested her chin on my head and spoke into my hair. “Your dad’s coming for you.”

I felt the words I love you.

And then they were gone.