When Grnadfather Journeys Into Winter (6 page)

Little Thunder came up beside his
grandfather's bed.

"Sit beside me. Hold my hand and we shall
talk," said the old man, his voice soft as falling snow.

Little Thunder pulled a chair up next to the
bed and sat down. Tayhua pulled his right arm out from under the blanket. He was too weak to do
more than let his arm lie across the top of the covers. Little Thunder took hold of his
grandfather's hand.

For the first time, Little Thunder noticed
how white Grandfather's hair was, his braids like two white ropes against the pillow. He saw how
painfully thin his grandfather had become. When he saw these things, he could not hold it in any
longer, could not hold back his tears.

"Oh, Grandfather!" he cried. "I don't want
you to die!" Little Thunder buried his face in the blanket covering Grandfather's bed and wept
unashamedly.

Grandfather Tayhua just patted the hands
that held his and let Little Thunder cry.

After some time had passed, Tayhua said,
"Grandson, if you love me, you will dry your eyes so that you can listen to what I have to say,
for I do not have much time left upon this world."

Little Thunder sat up in the chair and wiped
the tears from his eyes. He straightened his shoulders and tried bravely to choke back the flow
of tears.

"I am sorry we did not have more time
together," said Tayhua with a look of deep regret on his face. "There was the school they sent
you to....so much of our time together was lost there."

"I didn't want to go," said Little
Thunder.

"Yes, I know. There are things in this world
we have to do that we don't want to do. Tell me, are you learning good things in the white man's
school?" asked Tayhua.

Little Thunder looked away for a second. He
wanted to say no, to say that nothing the white man had to teach was any good, but the truth was,
there were many good things to be learned. And many bad things too.

"I am learning some things I need to know.
And some things I don't want and don't need to know," answered Little Thunder.

The old man nodded his head a little. He
understood.

"We have this time together, then. It will
be enough time for me to tell you the last of the things that is mine to give you. Bend over
close to me so that I do not have to talk so loud. I shall whisper this last story to you. It is
my last gift to you."

Little Thunder seemed ready to cry again.
"Oh, Grandfather, I don't want you to die!"

"Yes, I know how you feel. I have felt this
thing you feel," said his grandfather. "Dying seems to you a very sad thing, but do not feel
sorry for me. I have lived a very long time and I have had a full life."

"But it isn't fair," said Little Thunder. "I
want to be with you always."

"That is not the way of this world," said
his grandfather solemnly.

Little Thunder got down on his knees beside
his grandfather's bed and leaned over close to Grandfather's mouth. Grandfather Tayhua began to
whisper to him.

"It is so, in this world of ours, that all
things that live must some day die. It is true for me too."

Little Thunder held tightly to Tayhua's
hand.

"I don't understand,
Grandfather."

"You are young and your heart is big and
your hurt is big, but you must try to understand," whispered Tayhua. "The life of a man is like
the life of a bird. He has a journey of spring and summer which he must travel. In this time, he
builds the nest of his life and raises his young."

"Like the barn swallows?" asked Little
Thunder. "Like the barn swallows in the nest above the old smoke house? Every year they have
their babies there."

"Yes," said Tayhua with a smile, "just like
the barn swallows."

There was a look of pain on Tayhua's face,
and he stirred a little on the bed before he spoke again. "Each year they raise their families,
and when the winter comes each bird is on his own, each little bird must make his own journey. So
it is with you, so it is with me."

"But why must I make my journey without
you?" asked Little Thunder. "Why can't you be with me always?"

"If the old birds never died, if they lived
forever, there would be no place in this world for any new birds. My wings are weak with my old
age. I am too tired to fly. A bird who cannot fly. No, it is not a good thing. But you are young.
Your wings are strong with youth, Little Thunder, so I know that there will be one bird who will
fly for me. Will you fly for me when I am gone?" The old man's voice was soft and
gentle.

"Yes, Grandfather," said Little Thunder with
a catch in his voice. "I'll fly for you. But I don't want you to leave me!"

Tayhua smiled and shook his head. "Even
though I must go away. I will never leave you. As long as you remember me, as long as you
remember that I loved you, that I loved you always in my heart, then I shall always be with
you."

Tayhua coughed. "Bring me some water," he
whispered, licking his lips. "My story-telling tongue is all dried out."

Grandfather winked at Little Thunder, who
managed to smile a little, but only a little. Little Thunder went over and got a gourd full of
water and brought it back to his grandfather. He tilted it up to Tayhua's lips, and the old man
drank a little bit of it.

"Thank you," said Grandfather when he had
had enough to drink. "Now listen closely, because this is the most important thing I have to tell
you. Do you remember the year when the barn swallows did not come?"

"I remember. I went out every day to look
for them. The nest was empty that year," said Little Thunder. "I guess they went someplace else
that year."

"And you remember what happened the next
year. Do you remember what we saw after the last snows of winter had melted?"

"They came back! They came back to their
nest!" said Little Thunder. "They had two babies that year."

"No," said Tayhua. "They did not come back.
You were young, and I did not have the heart to tell you then. Now I must tell you. Those were
not the same swallows we had watched through the years."

"But if they were not the same..." Little
Thunder did not understand. "They looked like the same ones to me."

"Yes," said Tayhua. "They looked very much
like our old friends but they were....the children of our friends. The little female swallow
had...returned to raise a family of her own."

"But what happened to the barn swallows we
knew? Where did they go?" asked Little Thunder. "Did they move away?"

"The old ones? Who is to say what happened
to them. It was a cold winter that year. Perhaps they did not survive. It may have been their
time to leave this world, as now it is for me, my time. But the little female swallow built a
life of her own. The life of her father and mother she continued in the life of her children. So
it is with you and me."

"I think I understand," said Little
Thunder.

Grandfather nodded his head very slowly. He
said, "Now you see why you should not be so sad. Life must give way to life. It is the way of the
world."

Little Thunder managed to smile a little,
even though, down deep, he did not feel like smiling.

Tayhua coughed again. He seemed to be
getting weaker and weaker.

Little Thunder rubbed his grandfather's
hands with his own. The veins and wrinkles on Tayhua's gnarled hands were like a map of the
world, with rivers and mountains and plains.

"Listen!" suddenly whispered Tayhua.
"Listen! Do you hear it?" The old man seemed excited.

Little Thunder cocked his head to one side
and listened. At first he couldn't hear anything, and then, from very, very far away he heard the
same sound his grandfather was hearing.

It was the cry of the wild geese, flying
south for the winter.

"Do you hear them?" asked Tayhua. There was
a smile on his face now, and he seemed at peace. "I was hoping to hear them before I left this
world!"

"I hear them, Grandfather!" said Little
Thunder. "It's the wild geese! They're flying south early this year!"

"Run to the window and see if you can see
them!" said Tayhua. "Hurry! Are they in sight?"

Little Thunder ran to the window and looked
up at the sky. He looked in all directions. He couldn't see anything. Then, a long way off, he
saw them. A long, sweeping V formation high in the sky. They were flying toward Tayhua's
house.

"I see them! I see them!" said Little
Thunder, excited.

"Help me up!" commanded Tayhua.

"But you're not supposed to get up," said
Little Thunder, worry in his voice.

Tayhua slowly sat up in bed. "My mother said
the day I was born the wild geese were making their journey across the sky. Today is the day I
die, and I want, once again, to see the wild geese in their winter flight. So please, help me
up!" pleaded Tayhua.

Little Thunder rushed to his side and helped
him out of his bed. Tayhua could barely stand. Little Thunder had to hold him up to keep him from
falling.

Somehow he managed to get Tayhua over to the
window.

The old man leaned against the window frame
and looked up into the sky. "Where are they? I can't see them. My eyes are too weak."

Little Thunder pointed. "Here they come,
Grandfather! Look! They're heading straight for us!"

The honking of the geese grew louder and
louder.

On and on came the wild geese, until they
were right overhead.

They swooped low over Tayhua's house, almost
as if they wanted Tayhua to be able to see them.

"I see them! I see them!" cried
Tayhua.

Then they were gone, the sound of their
honking getting fainter and fainter.

"It is finished," said Tayhua. His legs gave
out. He fell slowly against the window and slid down to the floor. Little Thunder could not keep
him from falling.

"I can't make it back to the bed," said
Tayhua, gasping for breath. "It is all right. Let me rest here."

"Is there anything I can do for you,
Grandfather?" asked Little Thunder, his heart heavy within him.

"No," said his grandfather weakly. "You have
already done it for me."

"What is death like?" asked Little Thunder.
"Will it hurt you, Grandfather?"

"It is said that there is no death, only a
change of worlds. But no one knows, because it is not ours to know. I don't think it will hurt
me." Tayhua was very tired. His voice seemed to come from faraway.

"How do the birds know when the season is
over?" asked the old man. Little Thunder had to bend closer because his grandfather's voice was
so very weak.

"I don't know," said Little Thunder, a lump
in his throat.

"Because..." Tayhua's voice was below a
whisper now, "because they are here..." he coughed a little "....here on this earth to remind us
of the gift given to all the things of creation."

Little Thunder had his ear next to his
grandfather's mouth. He could just barely hear what Tayhua was saying.

"We have...all been given a gift...given a
gift of a journey...a journey into winter." A strange looked passed over the old man's face, and
then Tayhua spoke no more. His head settled back upon the floor and he passed away quietly as if
in a dream, asleep forever.

Little Thunder took Tayhua's blanket off the
bed and gently pulled it over him. He loved his grandfather and he was crying. He would miss his
grandfather for a long time, a very long time. But down deep, a part of his heart was happy for
his grandfather, who had died at peace with the world.

Happy for his grandfather, who, like all the
things in creation, had taken one final look at the sky and made his journey into
winter.