Gam’s had a visitor.
Apparently, he comes in through the window at night–an Indian boy with a round face and a headband with a single feather.
He sits in the chair besides her bed, tells her that she’s not alone, and that she doesn’t need to be afraid.
He always has a Bible with him and reads her favorite Scriptures.
“Is he nice?” my dad asked her.
“Are you afraid of him?”
Death can make you delusional. It’s one of the signs of approaching the end. Seeing people who aren’t in the room, talking to loved ones who’ve passed.
I’d prefer to think that there’s an Angel watching over her as she sleeps–telling her she’s not alone, and that there’s no need to be scared.
Gam’s mom was Native American–Delaware Lenni Lenape. Gam’s hospice nurses read to her at night. There’s even a freaky Geisha portrait hanging over her bed that, when you look at it in the adjacent mirror, could give anyone the impression of having a headband with a feather.
I still vote Angel.