Quoth the Raven

In November of 2014, my maternal grandfather Max was 96 and dying of old age in hospice. He was unconscious, thin, with his face contorted and his mouth open. The family was gathered around him for his last week. Taken off of liquids and nourishment, we didn't know how long he would have. Perhaps days, no longer than a week. I flew up from North Carolina to visit him for a day.

In his room, the family gathered. My grandmother, also 96, cried and moaned and repeated stories of Max endlessly. She was constantly anxious and beside herself. We had about an hour or two with him.

Before the family left that day, I knew it would be the last time I could see him. I asked for some time. My family left the room. I had about ten minutes.

I began speaking to him and prayed. I sang the Sh'ma and other prayers. I said it aloud and I said it under my breath, and I said it silently. As I was doing this, I put my hands on him. On his arm, on his chest as I prayed. I don't know if he heard me or felt me, but his body began shaking and convulsing. It was quite scary, but I was not scared. I felt responsible for him. I felt I had known him. He had not had an easy life,  a teen during the Depression in a poor Jewish family, and so sharing his emotions was not something he did. When he hugged me in the past, it was never close or tight. He never had much to say to me and asked me few questions about myself. He never graduated from college, but he was a student and a learner and an athlete all his life. The ladies thought he was as handsome as Errol Flynn. He was stoic, and never complained of pain, though he had terrible arthritis.

In those last moments, I felt connected to him. I could not see his blue eyes, but I see them now, small and cold, strong and clear.

I cried as I left his room that day. He died on the same day as my paternal grandfather, also Max, fifty years to the day, November 25, 2014. The funeral on Long Island was one of the coldest days I could remember.

Max's favorite poem was "The Raven", by Poe, and he would recite it for you, and do an eerie rendition of a raven or crow.

I've come to associate ravens or crows with him. In a Medicine Card deck I bought recently, I got the Opossum, the Badger, the Boar, and then the Raven, which represents magic or mystery or possibly afterlife. I see the raven or crow in my meditation sometimes, and I travel with him if needed.