A Hand On My Shoulder
by Tracy
(New York)
I was too young to remember, but my mother tells me this story all the time. I am now 36.
We were living in an apartment in Queens. I was 4 years old and my grandfather had died the year before. I had gone to the bathroom and my mother started to get worried because I wasn't coming out. The next thing she heard was me screaming at the top of my lungs that a man was touching my shoulder.
My mother ran into the bathroom and to her surprise there was no one there. When I told my mother about the person in the bathroom she concluded that it was her father, my grandfather. He had died the year before and she feels that he came back just to visit with me.
From what she tells me, although he had other grandchildren, I was the apple of his eye. I could do no wrong in his eyes. When he died his last words to my mother were to make sure I will never forget him. Unfortunately, I was only 3 when he passed and I have no real memories of him, but the stories my mother tells me about him I feel like I do.
I honestly believe that it was my grandfather that morning in the bathroom since he never wanted me to forget him. I wish he would visit me again.
I love when my mother talks about this story, makes me feel so good to know that my grandfather loved me so much that he had to come back one more time just to see me. I just wish I remembered him.
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