Great Grandma Visits

Great Grandma Visits

A Short Story

By Kathy Hayes

My father was a change of life baby and most of his brothers and sisters had children when he was born. His nieces and nephews were older than him. Because of this, I did not get to spend much time with my grandparents. I was born in 1958 and dad’s mom died in 1962. Sometimes I think I remember her, but I think it is from stories repeated to me or photos I have seen.

My first cousin, Lizbeth, was twenty years older than me and had three children about my age. Lizbeth was grandmother’s pet, and they had a very close relationship. I was always envious of her for knowing Grandma and having stories to tell about her. Her daughter, Anna, is two years younger than me and during Sunday afternoon dinners, we played together and became close.

I was very young when I first heard the story I am about to tell and I heard the story many times over the years. No matter what family member told this story, it was always the same. Anna was born the same week my grandmother passed away. Lizbeth took newborn Anna to visit her great grandmother in the hospital just two days before she passed. Grandma was not herself and as far as we know, she never knew Anna was there.

Grandma Ivy lived a hard life. She had five children, raised them, no thanks to her fun loving runabout husband. In her forties, she found herself pregnant with her fifth child. Grandfather was out gallivanting around the county, when my father was born in a clapboard house with no running water, no electricity, and no heat. My Aunt Helen, who was herself pregnant, delivered her brother and brought them both back to her home until grandfather came back home.

The first time I heard this story, I was six and Anna was four. I was an expert eavesdropper, and I listened to my mom and my aunts talking about it through an open window.

At four years old, Anna was still sleeping in a crib. Every morning, Anna scampered over the rail of the crib and went into the kitchen for breakfast. Anna started telling her mother about her grandma friend, who came to visit her every night. Lizbeth assumed this was an imaginary friend. Without fail, every morning Anna relayed stories to her mother about her grandma friend. 

“She is so nice. She reads me stories every night until I fall asleep. Some nights you forget to turn on my night light and Grandma turns it on for me.”

“Grandma has such a sweet voice, and she knows so many songs. Our favorite is itsy bitsy spider. Do you know that song Mommy?”

Anna sang the song. “Where did you learn that song, Anna?”

“I told you Mommy, Grandma sings it to me.”

Every morning there were grandma stories. My Aunt June told my mother that Lizbeth had called the doctor to ask him about imaginary friends and the doctor assured Lizbeth that it was normal and that she would soon move on to something else.

One night Lizbeth could not sleep and went to the kitchen for a drink and, as she passed Anna’s room, she peeked in the cracked door. In the pale yellow of the night light, Lizbeth could see the rocking chair was rocking back and forth. Lizbeth stepped into the room and the chair stopped rocking. Lying on the rocker was the Dr. Seuss book Are You, My Mother. Lizbeth knew she had not left the book there. She looked around the room and an icy chill tingled up her spine and gave her goosebumps. Anna was sound asleep with her thumb in her mouth. Lizbeth went back to bed. The next morning, before breakfast, Lizbeth told her husband what had happened.

“Bill, I got creeped out.”

“Just a breeze. Were the windows open?”

“No. They were closed, and the chair stopped rocking when I entered the room. Don’t you think that is strange?”

“Lizbeth, it will be hard trying to convince me that Anna’s friend is real. We should embrace the friend. Tell Anna to invite her to supper or something. Include the friend and she will soon disappear.”

That morning, Anna couldn’t wait to tell her mother about the book Grandma had read to her the night before. “The name of the book is Are You My Mother?” 

Lizbeth got into the habit of checking on Anna in the night. She never saw the chair rock again, but she found random books taken from the book shelves often lying on the rocker or the bedside table. 

One night when Lizbeth moved toward Anna’s room, she could hear voices. She stopped and tried to hold her breath so she could hear. 

“Grandma, I love that book. Can we read more tomorrow night?”

“Anna, why are you awake? Who are you talking to?”

“Mommy, I had a bad dream and couldn’t sleep. Grandma got me some warm milk and read me a story.”

Lizbeth looked at the bedside table. There was a half full glass of milk.

“Anna, how did you get that milk? Did daddy bring it to you?”

“Mommy, I told you. Grandma got it for me? I am sleepy now.”

And with that, Anna laid down in her crib, popped her thumb in her mouth and was soon asleep.

Lizbeth stood at the crib looking down at Anna for several minutes. She cast her eyes around the room, looking for anything out of place and saw lying in the rocker a book that Lizbeth was sure she had never seen before. It was one of Lizbeth’s favorites, The Secret Garden. This was an ancient, worn copy. Lizbeth flipped open the book and there on the first page was an inscription. 

To my dear, dear Anna,

May you find the joy in this book that your mother always did.

Love,

Grandma

Lizbeth marched back into her bedroom, making as much noise as possible.

“Bill. Bill! Wake up. How do you explain this?”

“Oh God, what have I done now? What time is it? Three AM? Have you lost it? What is going on?”

Bill was slapping his face, trying to get woke up so he could find out what all the commotion was about.

She handed the book to her husband.

“Looks like an old book to me. Tell me why you are upset.”

“I found this book in the rocking chair in Anna’s room. I have never seen it before. Have you?”

Lizbeth flipped the front cover open and pointed to the inscription.

“And how do you explain that?”

Bill read the inscription and then read it again.

He was still holding the book when Lizbeth said, “Did you take Anna warm milk tonight?”

“What? No, why would I do that?”

“Warm milk relaxes you at bedtime so you can sleep. Anna said she had a bad dream and Grandma brought her some warm milk.”

“Anna must have heard about warm milk before and…”

“Bill, there is a glass half full of milk on the bedside table in her room.”

Bill was searching for a plausible explanation, organizing the events in his mind, wanting to reassure his wife. 

“There is a silver lining here. I am sure the older lady has no ill will toward Anna. That is something, isn’t it Lizbeth?”

That night, Bill brought several library books home. Non-fiction supernatural books covering many reported instances of supernatural occurrences.

That night, Bill and Lizbeth propped up in the bed and began scouring the books, looking for printed explanations for things there were no explanations for. Strange occurrences continued to happen regularly. One day Lizbeth was washing dishes and looking out into the backyard and saw Anna on the tire tree swing, pumping her little legs and going nowhere. Lizbeth was drying her hands so she could go out and push Anna. She looked out the window again and saw Anna swinging higher and higher, as if someone was pushing her.

Lizbeth raised the window so she could hear what was going on.

“Higher grandma, higher.” Anna was squealing at the top of her lungs. Lizbeth watched as the swing went higher and higher and then stopped just as abruptly as it began. Anna scampered out of the tire and held her hand out. Anna walked over to the picnic table in the middle of the yard, her arm extended as if being held the whole time.

“Read this one today grandma, it is still my favorite.” Lizbeth could see from the window that it was once again, Are You My Mother?

Bill and Lizbeth kept the lines of communication open with their daughter, often talking with her about her grandma friend. In the evenings, they pored over the library materials searching for answers, hoping nothing ominous was threatening their daughter. Lizbeth knew something supernatural was visiting their daughter, but Bill was more skeptical. Bill was trying his best to find logical explanations for the strange events.

My aunt and uncle, Lizbeth’s parents, were approaching their thirtieth anniversary. My aunt, my mother, Lizbeth and other lady relatives gathered at Lizbeth’s house to make party plans. Lizbeth was in charge of the party arrangements and she was giving chores to the other ladies. My mother thought it would be nice to have a photo board of my aunt and uncle’s life together, so Lizbeth pulled out the family albums and plopped them on the coffee table. Anna and I were playing on the floor nearby. The ladies chose several photos, and they were arranging them on the coffee table.

Anna toddled over to the coffee table and was looking at the photos, pointing out people she recognized. Anna picked up a picture and said, “Look mommy, it is grandma.”

My aunt said, “Yes, Anna, that is your great grandma and grandfather.”

Lizabeth felt a chill run down her spine.

“Wait a minute, Anna. Who is this again?”

“Mommy, this is grandma.”

“Which grandma darling?”

“The one that comes to read and sing to me at night. Isn’t she pretty mommy? I love grandma.”

Lizbeth shooed Anna and me out to play in the backyard, but at six years old, I had a strong curiosity. The window in the living room was open, and I sneaked over to the window and listened to the adults as Anna climbed around on the swing set.

“Okay mother, how do you explain this?”

“Explain what Lizbeth? Anna is smart and I am sure she just remembers these pictures.”

“Mother, she has never seen these pictures. I haven’t had them out for years, and it is not possible that she remembers grandma. She was a newborn when grandma died.”

My mother was wandering around the living room and hall. “June, I think Lizbeth is right. There is not a single picture of Ivy here.”

My Aunt June let out a long sigh. “There is an explanation. We just don’t know what it is.”

My mother asked Lizbeth, “How long has this been going on now?”

“What is it now, mom, about three months?”

My mother had a thought. “Maybe Anna just wants another grandma. She saw this picture of Ivy, an older lady, and just assumed it was a grandma. Let’s perform an experiment.”

I stood on tip toes and peeked over the bottom of the window. I could see my mother sifting through the photos again.

“Okay, I have picked out several pictures of our family’s older ladies. Here I have Ivy, Aunt Susie, Aunt Matilda, Grandma Garber, cousin Ellie Ann and Aunt Velma.” I watched as my mother shuffled them all up. 

“Okay, Lizbeth, call the girls in.”

I ran out into the middle of the yard and toward the swing set.

“Girls, come on in now. It is time for a snack.” We both raced to the back door, Anna excited about the prospect of a snack, me excited about the prospect of learning more about what the adults were talking about.

“Anna, come sit on Aunt Sara’s lap and let’s look at some of these pictures.” My mother laid out the pictures she had chosen in a circle on the coffee table.

“Do you know any of these people, Anna?” 

“Yeeeeessss Aunt Sara.”

“Who do you recognize, darling? Show me.” Anna leaned over and picked up a picture.

“Who is this Anna?”

“Grandma. Grandma comes to see me at night. She reads stories and sings songs and sometimes she brings me warm milk to drink. She always sits with me until I am asleep. Sometimes she goes outside with me to play. She is great at pushing me on the swing.”

My mom laid down the picture that Anna had picked. It was Grandma Ivy. At age six, I did not comprehend what was going on. It was as I got older and heard the story over and over that I came to understand the ramifications. My family believed Anna had seen great grandma’s ghost. 

The ghostly evening visits continued for the better part of a year, and as Anna got older, the visits became less frequent and stopped. 

This old family story was told and retold down through three generations, and everyone in my family believes the story to be true. Over the years, Anna continued to talk about her special grandma and, even into adulthood, she believed that Grandma Ivy looked after her when she was little. To this day, Anna still places flowers on grandma’s grave every year. Not on grandma’s birthday or death day, but on Anna’s birthday. I always envied Anna’s relationship with grandma and wished I could have had the experience that she did. Our family has kept the story alive, me telling my children, Anna telling her children. It is now part of our folklore and no matter what the explanation; we embrace the story as something wonderful that happened to our family.