A true story by Suzan St Maur
Her raucous breathing had been rattling the room for nearly 24 hours. I lay back on the garden sun lounger chair beside her bed and dimmed the bedside light. Just as my eyelids started to flutter, the clattering stopped. Started again. Stopped. Did not start again.
She was talking to my long-dead grandmother.
I got up and kissed her forehead. “Là voilà,” I said through my sobs, without looking behind me.
“D’accord, there she is…” said the voice.
“Granny? C’est bien toi?” My voice faded to a whisper, but it didn’t matter. [Read more…]
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