Death Clock
My grandmother was a God-fearing woman. As far as I know she didn’t believe in ghosts, vampires, goblins, etc., and if she did, it wasn’t beyond what The Good Book told her in black and white, which is what makes her dying gift so ironic.
When my grandmother died, she left a slew of belongings behind. In truth, I don’t think we ever realize how much stuff one truly collects until a passing. However, amid all the piles of books, magazines, knick-knacks and collectibles, after my grandmother died my mother focused in on only a few select items that she wanted to take with her as mementos of her mother. Among the few items my mother selected was a clock.
It wasn’t really a special clock. It’s just one of those bird clocks, similar to the ones that were sold nearly every night on some TV shopping network after midnight. Somewhat like the one in this photo.
taken from http://www.target.com
Every hour on the hour the different birds sing; this brought such delight to my grandmother.
However, since her death in 2007, the clock has stopped working. It has never made a sound except on three separate occasions: when my Uncle Jesse died, when my Uncle Buck died and when my grandfather died.
These three deaths occurred months apart from one another; however, for each death the clock started up once again, at least three days prior to the death, and it continued for a few days after each death.
At first, it was it seemed like coincidence. My mother thought it was odd that the clock would just start working all of a sudden, but she didn’t pay much attention to it. When it started chirping again, right before the second death, my mother even made the joke, “Oh Grandma’s just checking in on us again.” The third time the birds began their song, my mother became afraid as she wondered who would be the next to die. When she got the news of my grandfather’s death, she thought my grandmother’s work, through the clock, might be finished. “Perhaps, she just came back for her husband,” she said. But, when the clock began to chirp and caw once again this last week, the fear returned; this time, in all of us.
I was driving to work when I received the call: “You be extra careful this week,” my mother fretted over the sound of the twittering birds.
So far we’ve received no news of anyone’s passing, and the clock has been working for over a week. Perhaps the individual has yet to die, or maybe the clock is only to serve as a reminder that time is ever-fleeting and death may potentially be only seconds away. Either way, as long as that clock is cheeping, I’ll tread lightly.
