india-photos-people-architecture-3Day 16 – GrandPa’s Intuition

My grandpa came over to live with us when I was around 8 years old and he was in his 70s. He lived with my mom’s elder brother in India who had passed away a couple years earlier. He was a fiercely strong independent man and I can understand where my mom gets her stubbornness.
But under that shell of his lay a soft and generous heart.

When I started selling flowers at 9 years old, a police man actually noticed and said I couldn’t sell flowers anymore. This is when my grandpa volunteered to tag along with me and help out. Eventually, he got his own spot and started selling flowers on his own for many years. Some may remember him. A turbaned, white bearded old man, who spoke no English, standing in front of Women’s College Hospital downtown Toronto selling roses and carnations, through rain, sun and snow.

Many years later, he forgot his way back home and my dad had to ask him to stop working. He didn’t need to work, however, he chose to and saved his money to send back home to his son’s children. He also had another quirky side to his personality that he insisted on buying his own milk! I still remember a white plastic container in the fridge with his name on it G-Singh.

One day while I was sitting in the basement at my desk in front of my computer while Grandpa sat on the couch about eight feet from me and asked “son, what month is it?”.

So being the nice guy, I looked it up on the Indian calendar and told him. Then he spoke words that still resonate in my ears today. He said, “son, I only have a little time left to live.”

I’m around 19 years old at this time and quickly blabbered out, what are you talking about? You are just fine. You have no health problems! and forgot the conversation as an old man’s blabbering until a couple weeks later, under the same circumstances, he posed the same question, “son, what month is it?”. This time, the month had changed and I told him. Once again, without any concern on his face, he repeated himself ‘that he only had a little time left to live.”

This time, I let my parents know. I don’t know what happened but tickets were bought and my mom went with him to India. Within 2 weeks there, he was lying on a “manja” (outdoor bed) in the verandah and suddenly passed away after vomiting once.

Later, I was told, he wanted to see his grandchildren and great grandchildren one last time before he died. Luckily for him, he did. But on landing in India, my mom also told me, it seemed like his life force just gave way. His energy just depleted.

Have you known anyone who knew when they were going to die? I believe some do who are connected with their intuition and have made peace with life. I know for many years my grandpa would be quietly meditating on God’s name. I also know, my dad’s father told him the same thing before he came to Canada. “Son, this will be our last meeting. Once you leave, we will not meet again”… and so it was. He passed away in the care of my mom while dad was busy trying to save money and make a life here so he could sponsor the eight of us.

Have you ever experienced anything surreal as this? Share your story?

Cheers,
Jas Jagpal

Just a random picture of an elderly Sikh man, somewhat representing my Grandpa from Google.