Poppy's Meat Pie

Christmastime always makes me think of my maternal grandfather, Poppy.  He loved the holidays and died just before Thanksgiving in 2007.  My twin boys were three at the time and only got to meet him once…while he was alive, that is.

            In mid-December of that year, Dan and I took them to my parents’ house in Florida for the weekend.  Twice during our visit, the boys’ gazes shot to my mom’s side at the same time.

            Both of them looked, but it was Geoffrey who spoke.  “Poppy,” he said, pointing.

            Each time, Mom nodded but said nothing.  The boys confirmed what she already sensed.

            Later that day, she, Dan, and I were talking by the pool.  The boys played close by.

            Geoffrey piped up, and his tone was adamant.  “No, no, Poppy.  Light on.”  He glanced to his side while his hands fiddled with a Spiderman action figure.  “No light off, Poppy.  Light on.”

            Dan gaped at him.  “Did he just say what I think he said?”

            Mom turned.  “What?”

            “I think he was talking to Poppy,” I said.

            Geoffrey’s gaze traveled up to a point about nine feet high, right beside the pool.  “Poppy, why are you flying?”

            Mom raised her eyebrows.  “Now I heard that!”

            Needless to say, the event made her weekend.

            On our return home, Geoffrey scampered into the house, then halted in front of our Christmas tree, whose lights were off.  He grinned.  “Hi, Poppy!”

            A minute later—by which time Geoffrey ignored the tree—Connor ran into the house.  He stopped and stared at the same spot his twin had.

            With a smile, he pointed to it.  “Poppy!”

            I felt my grandfather’s presence, strong as could be.  It was a reminder that those we’ve loved and lost are never far away.

            Wishing you and yours a joyous holiday season!

Judith Sterling

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