<The following story is true, adapted from an account by my mother>

A Visit from My Grandfather

My mom was born in the northeast section of Ohio, in the suburbs of Cleveland in the 1930s. She had a hard life growing up. Her mother was her father's second wife after a divorce, which was unheard of at the time. Mom was shunned by most of her half-siblings, who saw grandma as "the woman who split up our parents". In the Hungarian community, such bitter divides ran deep and continue to this day. 

However, grandpa hadn't given up his adulterous ways. Also, though a highly-regarded local doctor, he would do work on the side for the Cosa Nostra (often not by choice). Mom remembered the nice Sicilian old ladies who would come by and pinch her cheeks and give us food, wondering later what all they were involved in.

One night in particular, a strange car cruised by the family home with the windows slightly open. Grandpa stood out on the front porch as they passed. Mom didn't know much about what was happening at the time, but she was worried. Eventually, they left. A few days later, mom remembered a nice, muscular Sicilian man hanging around on the porch and smoking. It was only later that she found out he was a bit of protection for her dad because a rival mafia gang seemed very curious about granddad's associates.

All the while, things weren't much better in the family. Grandma was a hard woman to live with. She would yell and scream and bring bile-filled accusations down upon mom especially. She would accuse mom of stealing things and have yelling matches with granddad.

Despite always looking tired or anxious, grandpa was a thoroughly healthy man. He played rugby as often as he could. Born in Wales, he was the best runner on his school team. He never smoked and rarely drank.

Yet, on a warm Thursday afternoon in June, when my mom was barely a teenager, he slipped off to the restroom to do his business, taking with him a long medical book to read. He died from a massive coronary in the middle of a chapter on heart disease.

After granddad's death, things got worse for mom. Her mother remarried quickly to a man who was a hard drinker and would look at mom in the wrong sort of way. Again, grandma's rage spilled over as she accused mom of "trying to steal her man". Mom often stayed away from home with relatives and a half-sister who regarded her like her real parent. They suffered many misunderstandings but remained close.  

She grew up and became a teacher in the public schools. With time, she dated a young man who worked at the school as well. He was nice. He might be right for her. But at the same time, mom was intrigued by better teaching jobs out in California. It would've been much safer just to stay in her home state, marry this nice man, and spend the rest of her life there. But there were so many sad memories in her hometown. And she had many bouts of dark depression and anxiety.

She reflected for a long time. One day, a warm afternoon in June, she went back to her old childhood home when everyone else had gone out. She sat in the kitchen, at the table, and reflected on what she should do next.

Suddenly, from down the hall and to the right, there was a sound of water from the bathroom. This wasn't unusual. The plumbing was old and often made noises. She picked up her head and listened.

Then, she heard heavy, deliberate footsteps. She tried to think. Had her half-sister come back for something? The footsteps certainly sounded too heavy to be a girl's.

She looked up. Around the corner walked my grandfather, who had been dead for over ten years. He looked down at her, smiled, and said, "Hello, sweetie."

He was dressed in the same green pullover he often wore with a thin-gray shirt buttoned up to the collar. He wore his thick glasses pushed up on his broad nose. His shoes were the black ones he wore the day he died but perfectly polished.

He stood there calmly and smiled. Mom ran from her chair and hugged him immediately. He was as solid and real as he'd been in life. She could even smell his regular brand of cologne drifting in the air.

They sat together at the table as mom cried and said, "I'm so glad to see you, dad."

"I'm so happy to see you too."

They talked about anything and everything and granddad listened carefully with a smile.

Eventually, mom came to what was weighing on her mind.

She told him the choice before her: Stay here or go far away.

He looked her in the eye and rubbed her hand gently. "That's quite a decision. For me, I knew I had to move far away to have my chance. But the choice is up to you. And you know I love you no matter what."

Soon, he got up from the table and hugged her one more.

"Well, I have to go. I'll see you again someday."

After their goodbyes, granddad left through the back door. Mom looked outside afterwards, but he was already gone.

She cried a lot and questioned herself even more. Always a rational person, this was the only strange thing like this which ever happened to her. She knew she was awake through the whole experience. It took her many years before she told anyone about it.

As for her decision, she broke it off with the man she was dating. She moved to California and soon met my father. I believe, if not for that visit from my grandfather, I would never have been born.