He used to sit on that bench and tell me stories. I am back now but the bench is empty. He isn’t there, it’s just me, many years older. He loved looking up to the sky, as much as I love doing it too. His voice was home for me. I was little and so fascinated by whatever he was telling me. He always pointed at the mountains and told me to look between the clouds and find the cross. It was the heroes cross, raising high up in the sky. He loved telling me how he managed to climb right on top of it, many, many years before. He told me that he reached the top of the world up there and I could see how happy he was thinking of it. There was nothing better than the feelings he had up there.
We used to spend hours, with his hand holding mine, walking down the streets that I managed to visit again this weekend. He had a story for everything and he could captivate my attention like no one else.
I was so little and my soul was pure, just like his. Our connection was always there and he was loving enough to let me know when the time came for him to leave. I was 12 and that night, when he left the 3D and visited my dream, I knew for sure that life is more than we can see. That’s grandpa, smiling in heaven and I bet he loved seeing me at “our bench” again, back after maybe 17 years.
I hope you find these pictures as captivating as I was by the stories grandpa shared with me. If you look close enough, you’ll be able to see the Cross too, hidden between the clouds.
Feel loved and spread love! ❤️