I usually doze off into the abyss when I'm not supposed to, when I should be focused. But, it's hard for me to focus. It's difficult to stay on task and get into the hang of things until you push yourself to do so. I usually go off to see my grandmother a few times a month to hang out with her and check up on her. Well, just a few years ago my grandmother, Virginia, had gotten ill.

 She had always been a smoker since I was little. That was, until she just collapsed and she couldn't function by herself anymore. She was a Christian and would always tell me about Jesus. She had this old painting of him with a thick vintage border and lights directly lighting up on to give him a heaven like affect, it always remained right next to the dinner table so I'd always feel watched by him.

Virginia didn't just mention who she believed in and prayed for, but she always reminded me that she wasn't afraid of death and would always find a way to keep in touch with me when she would pass. And that would be by visiting me as her spirit animal, a red cardinal. At a certain time, I even asked her if she would "write me letters in heaven." 

Well, interesting enough, she didn't I expected that at such a young age but a part of me wanted to believe her. Now, I can see her everywhere I go. That cardinal. Always following and watching me. I'd see it in the trees during winter, outside of school, on traffic lights. 

I'm not too worried about it but I still find it strange from time to time. She had a twin sister. They happened to be fraternal but claimed they looked similar in the past. I didn't think so. But, with that you'd think she'd visit them? For even a split second? Never. 

Sometimes, I don't just see that bird, I feel her physical presence in the corner of my room far from my bed. Just staring at me. But when I look I don't see a thing. Not a single soul. Maybe I could have been paranoid? But it didn't seem as if that was the case. 

Every time I saw that cardinal mom would say "look there's grandma!" And I'd try to snap a shot of her before she'd fly off again. Several times and I've only gotten ONE picture of her sitting there. Every time I thought about her I'd remember what it was like seeing her fall apart. 

She laid on a hospital bed in the corner of her living room, ranting about her childhood. Soon enough, she didn't remember me and asked us "where daddy was." At that time, he could barely remember her, his own daughter. It was sad seeing her that way.