Your True Tales
October 2004 – Page 1

Grandpa's Smell
by Livia

I was always very close to my grandpa. He was Slovenian and I called him Ocha (said Oar-cha) which means grandpa in Slovenian. He had cancer that started in his head but spread all over his body. When I asked why they didn't take the cancer away, my dad explained that the cancer was like cordial: when you mix the concentrate with water, you can't get the concentrate back again.

Anyway, I remember this very clearly, one night, I was asleep and all of a sudden I sat bolt upright. I was in a bunk bed and my brother, who was two at the time, was underneath me. All of a sudden, I smelled that familiar smell of my grandpa – that old-man smell. Then my dog started barking. Then I heard the phone ring.

The next morning, my dad had puffy eyes and you could tell he had been crying. He said to me "Livi, Ocha died last night. His heart stopped beating." "I know. He visited me last night," I replied. My dad was shocked, but that wasn't the end. The next night, I sat bolt upright again and there was my Ocha sitting at the end of the bed. He said one thing and one thing only to me: "Livia, tell your dad to find Uncle George." I asked him what it meant, but he just disappeared.

I told my dad the next morning, and he asked me how I knew about Uncle George. I told him the truth and he was shocked because no one had ever told me about Uncle George, and I must be telling the truth.

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