Wet grass, the spotted patches of snow. Deep green underneath. The leaves have turned red. Above, through the bare branches and the red hue of those who still hang on, the sky. Grandpa died. It wasn’t yesterday, but, you’re thinking of him now. Perhaps it wasn’t of consequence, you barely knew him. A flash of memory, riding the stuffed purple dinosaur in front of the TV in that old apartment. The smell of cigarettes. He was there, and one day, he wasn’t. In that deep blue, beneath the spotted patches of clouds, was there some greater mystery? Something beyond the simple fact: here today, gone tomorrow. Grandma told a story, she sat with him in the hospital. She told many stories, sat with many people in the hospital. The brain disease had pulled him away. There wasn’t much left of old Bill. But there was still something, and when it slipped beyond this world, the doctors rushed in. They pushed and ran, the miracle of medicine in a frenzied dance. The lightning ran through his body, once, twice. He came back from that long road. Long enough to say goodbye. Grandma said she asked him what he saw. What was it like to slip into that great beyond? He only said he saw a great light. It must have been brighter than anything he had ever seen. It must have grown, swallowed him whole. All became one. Some hours later, he slipped out of that hospital room again. There was no chance to pull him back.

Up in the trees, in the sky, you thought about Grandpa. What did it mean, that he saw a light? Was he lying? Was Grandma? What would it mean if you saw one? Looking up into that yawning blue, beyond the red leaves and naked branches, beyond those puffy white clouds, what if a light shone? Shone from nowhere, or everywhere? Maybe, but maybe it was just the sun.

When you went home, you felt a little worried to tell your parents about what had been on your mind. You knew it would be tense. You did it anyway. They looked concerned. Dad asked you if maybe the light came from the electricity that shocked Grandpa back to life. You knew that the brain was electric, so that made sense. Mum said that people need stories to help them get through hard times, and this was especially a hard time for Grandma. You thought, that made sense too. Grandma wasn’t lying, but maybe it wasn’t true either. You thought it would be easier to just ask Grandpa. Maybe it wasn’t the first time, maybe not the last, but you felt a pulling deep in your heart. Why couldn’t you ask Grandpa? Why did he have to go? You barely knew him after all.