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Not everyone has heard a song from Heaven. Granny Lennon, as I used to call her, told me she heard one in 1911. She claimed her husband sang it to her from the Pearly Gates. I asked if she had been married before because her husband died in 1998.
“Nope,” she’d brag, “He sang it from Heaven before coming back to me; the plague couldn’t keep us apart. Our love was too strong.”
She’d reminisce how through the years she used to sing the same song to her kids and grandkids as a lullaby. “I’d always cry,” she recalled, “each time.”
Granny Lennon was about the oldest person in the home; around 100 years if what she said was true. I used to visit Happy Acres on Saturdays. She would say that song got her and all her family through some tough times; wars, droughts, famines, sicknesses, funerals.
She would tell how the kids liked the melody more than words, “Most of the time I would just hum it until they fell asleep.” But she’d add with a smile and a tear, “I loved the words. They moved like no other I ever heard.”
For an elderly lady she could still carry a tune; a little shaky, but every Saturday she would sing it to me after retelling the same stories she told the weeks before.
Watching from a cloud in tears
Sprinkles mist on your garden’s flower
Watching from a cloud you feel me
I have to believe it’s so
I pray you believe it’s so
Whispers in your heart you hear
And know I’m close as any other
Watching from a cloud it pains me
Can’t stop believing now
God knows I believe you now
You’re asking will my coma end
Will love grow, will … love … grow
Watching tears shed for my life
I now know, love … will … grow
Watching all the ways you love
And all I’m able is to dream of you
Watching all the faith you show me
I have to believe it’s so
I pray you believe it’s so
Granny Lennon passed away around Easter in 2002. I sang the song at her graveside, and yes, there was one single cloud overhead.
I sing it now in my home when I’m alone. I don’t know if it came from Heaven, but I always feel well after. It reminds me of my wife.
Like Granny Lennon’s children and grandchildren, I love the melody of her husband’s song; a familiar melody I can’t ever seem to put my finger on. I know it’s over a century old, but it’s my favorite love song; there’s just something about the way it moves me.
I remember asking Granny Lennon what the name of the song was. She’d always say, “Watching, or … something.”
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