Before I begin to relate this story I wish to  make some things clear.     I am NOT a religious person.   I do believe in fate and destiny and that things happen for a reason.   You are free to interpret what I'm about to relate according to your own beliefs.

If you have read the previous pages you know about the death of my only child Gary.  If you have not read them I suggest you do before you start on this story.

October 23, 1980 was just a day like any other for me except for the fact that my son Gary was  in hospital and receiving a Flu shot.  I was picking him up the next day  and bringing him home.   Due to the respiratory problems associated with his disease the annual flu shot was necessary.     His Doctor had called me at work and told me that she had just given him a checkup and found nothing unusual , although she did say that she was amazed at what a little fighter he was, and that he had outlived his life expectancy.  She told me she was going away and that another Doctor was looking after Gary in the interim.

I was at that time a partner in a Jewelry Engraving business and on Thursday nights I always took the jewelry that needed to be hand engraved to a friend who happened to  be one of the few hand engravers left.     He and his wife were great friends and the Thurday night ritual included dinner and cards. 

Halfway through dinner I got an uncontrollable feeling of urgency to see my son.   I told my hosts that I would not be staying for cards much to their suprise.  When I explained my feeling, they urged me to go with it.

I left their place at around 7.30 and headed to the hospital.   My son was sitting up in bed watching TV and looked fine except that I noticed he was perspiring.   I went  to the hallway and spoke to  one of the nurses and she informed me that they had also noticed, and felt if was a reaction to the shot and were monitoring him closely.   I returned to his room and we had a lovely visit, but my feeling of foreboding would not go away.   Several times I asked him if he feeling alright and he answered  yes.   I clarified by saying,  "What I mean darling is, why are you in bed instead of in your chair?"    He laughingly answered " Oh Mom, havent you ever felt like going to bed early?"   At 9pm I told him I was going home, kissed him and said  him I would pick him up in the morning.    I got as far as the front entrance to the hospital and something told me to go back.    I went back to Gary's room and he said " What did you forget?"   I answered " I forgot to tell you how much I love you son,   do you have any idea just how much you mean to me?"   Gary said " oh mom, dont get mushy", I laughed, kissed him and left.

Our home was  only a 5 minute drive from the hospital.   I arrived there at around

9 .20pm.    It was pitch dark but I didn't turn on a light.   I entered the house, found the couch in the dark and lay down on it.    Waiting..... but I had no idea for what.....or did I???    At 5 minutes to 10pm the phone rang,   It was the Doctor on call to inform me that Gary had passed away.

I went mad.     I screamed at "God".    I tore at my hair and I  beat the walls.  Why did I leave?   Why wasn't I with him when he left?  Why was I alive and my child dead?   Why?  Why?  Why?   I stayed a little mad for a long time and I think it was natures way of keeping me alive.    I can't begin to tell you the guilt I felt at not being there to hold his hand, but i didn't know.  I did, but I didn't.    For a long time I tortured myelf wondering what his last minutes were like.    Was he afraid?  Did he call for me?    I was afraid to ask in case the answer would confirm my nightmares.  

For the first year after his death I would go to bed and beg  to die in my sleep.  My litany was " If there is a God please dont let me wake up tomorrow", but of course i always did.    One thing that was eating away at me was the fact that I could not see my sons face in my dreams.    Try as I might, his face would not appear in my dreams.    I would ask myself what kind of mother was I that I could not visualize my  darlings face.

About a year after that awful night I went to bed and had a wonderful  dream.  In the dream I saw my beautiful boy, clear as day, coming towards me in his wheelchair.   He was NOT cured of his disease as I had been promised by my more religious friends, but he looked happy and was wheeling his own chair.  Something he had never been able to do as he lacked the strength.   I remember he was wearing a yellow tee shirt and I noticed with amusement that he had stubble  on his chin.   That was new!   Someone was walking beside the chair and all I saw was a pair of blue jean clad legs, but instictively I knew it was a young person.     He never spoke to me, but somehow the message was conveyed to me that all was well.  I questioned nothing, just accepted what I was seeing and I slept.

The next morning I awoke and remembered nothing until I was in the bathroom combing my hair and getting dressed to go to work.     I suddenly became conscious  the  fact that I was SINGING and feeling happy.    I immediately felt a pang of guilt, but then I remembered clearly the dream of the night before,   and the questions started.     What made me dream he was able to push his own chair?

Who was the person walking beseide him?   What  made me think that person was young?    Why did I imagine my son needed to shave?      I had no answers, but I knew that this was the day my healing was going to begin and I was  so thankful to be alive.    I'd like to say that my greif had ended, but not so.   I started having more happy days and I was content to wait for time to do its job.    The one thing that still tortured me was  "how did  he die?"

The following Spring I had a visitor knock on m front door.   I answered the knock and there stood  one of the nurses who looked after my son.  She asked if she could come in and talk to me.   She seemed a bit nervous and embarassed.   I invited her in and immediatly asked her if this visit had something to do with my son.    "I shouldnt have come" she said  "but I had the strangest dream about Gary".    I explained to this lovely woman that I was now at a stage  where  I could talk about my son without hysterics and in fact felt comfort in talking about him.    She started to relate her dream to me and I swear to you that it was almost exactly the same dream I had.    She remembered a few different details that perhaps were more significant to her than me but it was the same dream, even to the person walking beside his chair.   When she had finished,  we were both in tears and said she hoped she hadnt upset me.    I told her  about my dream and as I did I suddenly knew why she was there and why we had the dream.   It was for her to come and  let me know the answer to the question that was haunting me.   What were his last moments like?   Molly lifted her head and looked me in the eye and said " we've seen death many times in our career as nurses but we still talk about the night Gary died".     She went on to tell me that I  had just left when he called one of the nurses names and she came to his room.    The nurse went in thinking he wanted  the channel changed on his TV  or some such ordinary request as it wasnt a panic cry.    My son said to the nurse " would you come here a minute and hold my hand, I think I'm going now".     She took hold of his hand, he took two deep breaths and left.   No panic, no tears and no fear.

I now know that I was not meant to be there when he died.    I was meant to go see him and tell him how much I loved him.    I think my son sent me a message to come see him, and then another to go.   His love was so great he wanted to spare me.    I'm comforted by that thought.    What do you think???