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Melody

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Baby

Do you guys want to hear some OC regarding my Grandmother? This isn't just any OC. According to my father, this is actually true.

From my father, before he passed a few years back...

"One of the few memories I have, from when I was just a baby, is my mother singing to me softly, almost in a whisper, the most beautiful, calming melody.

"I remember the way that it made all the bad stuff in my 2-year-old world subside. That gentle melody has always been there for me when anything was wrong, and I still can recall the calming effect it had on me. If I close my eyes, I can almost hear it in her beautiful, gentle voice. I can almost feel her hand running down over my eyes, calming my inner turmoil, and I can almost smell her sweet aroma as if she were holding me again in her arms.

"When my wife and I finally got married, I think that my mother, being her kindhearted and amicable self, was happier than even I was. Being the youngest of eight, and marrying remarkably late into my own life, my mother was reaching the end of hers when I finally stood at the altar. She had been there for all of my brothers' and sisters' weddings, and more importantly, was always there for the children that those marriages would eventually bear. She was, without a doubt, the best grandmother that anyone could ever have asked for. I mean, hell, all those kids would probably have chosen to stayed at Grammy’s, if their parents never made them go back; I know I would. But sadly, a few months later, with my wife pregnant, my mother was on her deathbed, and she wished only to live long enough to see the last of her grandchildren born.

"She was such a strong woman, she had overcome and conquered so many times before, from raising all of us 8 kids so successfully as a single parent after our father died, to even surviving cancer; to make sure she wouldn’t leave us as orphans. But old age is not a disease; you can’t “beat” old age. She hung on for as long as her weak little body could, but finally passed one winter night; a mere two months before our boy James was finally born. She died before she could see her dying wish, to see his sweet face, to kiss his tiny curled fingers.

"James was… well, you could say James was a troubled baby. His stomach was constantly upset, he had acquired a nasty rheumatic fever, and he had a perpetual uncomfortable rash that caused him to be in a constant state of bedlam. One night will go down as being the worse series of bad nights we, my son James included, had ever, and probably will ever experience.

"James’s fever was going off the charts, and to make matters worse, a rainstorm was coming in so strong that the wind had managed to uproot a big elm tree outside our front yard, which had smashed our garage and the car that was inside. But it wasn't going any better inside the house either, where the real storm was happening. James was going crazy, screaming his lungs off, kicking and thrashing. My wife and I were doing everything within our power to calm the swelling fury contained in his little body, but to no avail.

"2 days passed, and not one of us three had gotten even a wink of sleep in the past 48 hours. I told my wife she needed to go lay down and try and get some sleep if she could, and that I would join her in a few minutes, as I was going to still try and get him to calm his raging spirit. So she left, and went to the part of the house furthest away from the commotion, where she would get the sleep that had been clawing at her eyelids for the past 20 something hours. I stayed behind and prepared for the worst.

"After about 20 minutes, I had gotten him to calm to some extent, but he was still in a state of pandemonium. I decided I needed to get some rest, or I might die of exhaustion. Not wanting to wake my wife, I decided to go to a different part of the house, where I could relax; if only for a few moments. So, I brought along one of those little one-way baby monitors people keep with them to listen to their kid at night. I settled into a comfortable chair in our den and turned the volume down low; so I could still hear if anything drastic happened.

"And as I sat there, slowly drifting asleep, I was awoken by something I never expected to hear – silence. In a state of complete shock, I turned up the volume on the speaker and heard, ever so faintly the sound of a gently-sung melody; a melody I had not heard in 45 years. And as this melody slowly started to drift away, so did the rustlings of a sick one month old baby."

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