The Night Nanny Died

Name:            Judy Landry
Email:           catnipbabes@yahoo.com
Location:        Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
Type:            Channeling
Date:            Wednesday, January 19, 2000
Time:            03:28 AM

This occurrence happened when I was only 8-years old, back in 1970. I lived with my parents and my maternal grandmother in our family home in the city. My grandmother had moved in with us just after I was born.

It was 10-days after my birthday. I enjoyed my new games and books, and was ready to get some sleep before school the next morning.

My grandmother had been tiny and frail ever since I could remember. She had also been in the hospital at least twice with heart trouble. So, when I said goodnight to her that evening, seeing her so small and pale against the big pink roses on her coverlet wasn't anything different. I had helped her get changed and into bed myself, as I always did -- she said she liked me to do it instead of my mother.

What was different was what she said to me that night. "You know, Judith, I'm not always going to be here. You'll have to take care of your mother." I felt it was important, but, like an 8-year-old, brushed it off with, "Oh, you're going to be here for a long time yet". We kissed each other goodnight, and said our 'I love you's', and I shut off the light.

I said goodnight to my mother upstairs. She said, "I'll be downstairs in the living-room if you need me." She just said, "never mind" when I asked her why she was going to be there instead of in bed.

I had been sleeping for a few hours when I heard my grandmother's voice say, "Judith, come here!". I was very sleepy, and I said, "Okay" twice to the voice. As I was drifting back off to sleep, the voice became insistent, and said, "Judith, come here - now!!". I still remember feeling happy, wanting to giggle as I answered her, "Okay, okay, I'm coming." I somehow knew I wasn't supposed to wake anyone, and quietly stole down our squeaky stairs and hall to nanny's bedroom.

Her bedroom door was open, as usual. As the street-lights from outside showed her vague form in the bed, a voice in my head said, "She's not there anymore -- it's empty". My giddy feeling had not left me, and I didn't question the words of the voice in my head.

The hall ended in 2-archways, one leading to Nanny's bedroom, and one into the living-room. There, the large sofa chair had it's back to the doorway. My mother was sitting, asleep or not, I didn't know.

At this point something came over me. I walked up behind my mother, and she shifted in her chair - as if she was about to get up. I leaned over and placed my hands on her shoulders, gently pushing back down. A VOICE THAT WAS NOT MY OWN quietly said, "It's okay, go back to sleep". With that, my mother relaxed back in the chair.

I still felt elated, but I suddenly knew to go back to bed. I crept back upstairs, and climbed into bed. As I snuggled into my covers, Nanny said to me, "I love you", and I said, "I love you, too".

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of people quietly speaking downstairs. I could hear my mother crying as she spoke to these people. I crept down the stairs, and paused at the bottom. My mother must have heard me because she came to me. Crying, she said, "Oh honey, Nanny's gone, she's gone to heaven". With the same feeling of happiness from the night before, I answered quietly, "I know, she died." My mother was startled, and she said, "What? What did you say?" Confused at my own answer, I just said, "Oh, nothing. What? Nanny's gone?".

About 10-years later, I told my sister this account of the night our Nanny died. She turned rather pale, and asked if mom had told me something. I didn't know what she meant. My sister then related something Mom had told her.

That night my grandmother had been sick, my mother had felt uneasy, and decided to sit in the living-room in case her mother stirred in the night and needed her. Mom remembered feeling like she needed to get up and check on Nanny, when she felt HER MOTHER'S hands on her shoulders, and heard HER MOTHER'S voice say, "It's okay, go back to sleep". She said she felt extremely peaceful, and drifted off. Mom awoke the next morning, and Nanny was gone.

I know now that Nanny used me that night to keep my mother from finding her too soon. Maybe Nanny knew Mom would have called an ambulance. I feel that Nanny was tired of being sick, and that it was her time to go. I will always remember my grandmother with love, and without fear. Her brief use of my body made me feel giddy, happy, and loved, all at the same time.

Soon, perhaps, I will have the courage to talk to my mother about this shared incident. When I do see her, we have so much more to talk about in our busy lives. Writing this account has helped me to see I should speak to her about it - while I still have the chance.