Short Stories

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I’ll Pray for You (part 2)

Stunned, the old man froze. He had not heard those words spoke since that day in the hospital. His mind quickly reeled, scattered, broken thoughts all rampaging his baffled brain at once. Could it be? “Nah”, he reckoned to himself, it was purely consequential. There had to be some explainable, logical reason for this.

As the car drove off, down the road, out of sight, the old man still sat bewildered in his chair. He tried to remember exactly what that boy looked like so many years ago. What exactly did that boy say to him? Did the boy say “someday your children and their children or someday our children and their children’?

He must be getting old, his mind slipping with age. It could be that because of the absurd twist of fate that he was letting something so trivial, insignificant rattle him. Still, “I’ll pray for you” drummed unending through his mind.

Slowly, he raised his aging body out of the rocker and shuffled in the house. He needed a nap. Maybe that was it; all the excitement of the day had made him tired. “Your mind does play tricks on you when you’re tired”, he thought to himself. Once refreshed, he might see things differently.

Sleep did not come easily and once he finally fell asleep, his mind refused to shut down, infusing, interweaving itself in a series of broken and fragmented dreams. He saw the boy praying for him, saw his children praying for him, saw his grandkids praying for him. Over and over he kept hearing “I’ll pray for you”. He tossed, thrashed in his bed. He saw a figure circumscribed and bathed in brilliant light, so intense it burned his eyes, standing in front of him, arms opened wide. He awoke covered, suffused in sweat and perspiration.

He busied himself that week with any and everything he could to occupy his mind. His already neat house was spic and span and freshly painted. His lawn trimmed, hedged and sporting a new flower garden behind a newfangled decorative miniature white picket fence.

Even though he could monopolize his mind during his waking hours, his dreams, he could not control. His dreams insulted his integrity with vivid images, haunting images of that kid and now his soon to be new granddaughter.

It was Saturday, and again he sat in his rocker, rocking smoothly, metrically. He looked around pleased and satisfied with his weeks work and effort. The gentle, warm breeze filled his nostrils with the fresh scent of the flowers. “Ha!” he snorted to himself, no imaginary god was going to invade his home. He issued a silent challenge, “if you are so real, if you do exist, show me a sign”.

With a gentle snore, he dozed, drifting off to a peaceful sleep. He was abruptly awakened to the sound of tires and honk. Opening his eyes, he saw his grandson and “that girl” approaching him, excitedly, both sporting new wedding bands and carrying a book.

“Grandpa”, the boy shouted, “we just got married! Her grandfather married us just today”. Then he opened up the book. “Here his old school album, look grandpa”, the boy eagerly exclaimed, “her grandfather went to college with you. Did you know him?” The old man looked down only to see the image that had been haunting his memories for so long.

Quivering he looked at his grandson, “tell me about his God of yours”.

Kathleen Ann Shelton

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