The Light Beyond

Najwa's story of love and loss

I grew up in Beirut, Lebanon, one of five children in a household of many wants and demands.  My physical needs were met but my heart was hungry for love.  One day I met my prince, a jewel amongst them all.  We were wed in love and magic under a blanket of stars, with dozens of family and friends wishing us a good Life. 

It was during the honeymoon that my prince was diagnosed with cancer.  I was pregnant.  He died soon after.

I gave birth to a healthy boy and gave him his father’s name.  I kept to myself for years and decades.  I nurtured my child on my own and vowed never to marry again.  I always remembered the father with honour and respect.

We were a happy family of two; mother and child.  We were contented in our home together.  I went to work.  He went to school.  We did not have much to live on but we managed.  We felt secured in our home for the love between us was our bond.

Then one night, we were startled by the sound of an explosion.  Dust was every where.  He woke up crying; we spent the night in the shelters.  The next night there was another explosion and a third.  Night after night we were seeking refuge somewhere.  Dust filled the air and gunpowder smoke filled our lungs.

It was time to leave.  We never looked back; we did not go back.  We did not live happily ever after for there was a block in our throats.  We were refugees and were never safe again.  We lived thousands of miles apart and we were both away from our home.  When we met, we found delight in spite of our bleeding scars.

I worked in different countries to help the oppressed.  I went wherever there was a need for human rights.  There were many struggles for us both, until my son became an adult and started building his own life.  I visited him whenever I could.  And when I was in poor health, he nursed me with tenderness and care. 

Haas, my son looked like his father.  He was handsome, fit and with lots of gifts to give.  He cherished life and his soul was satisfied.  I often looked with wonder at my son and thanked the Divine for the rewards bestowed after all the suffering and the pain.

Haas became a writer and resided in tranquillity in a cabin in the mountain Rockies, Boulder, USA.  He wrote sad stories never told and wrote poems that cried with concern for all.  He wrote about the devastating war, about the hate and anger that divides people and keeps families apart.  He wanted to tell the world that war was just like dust.  Nothing comes out of it except loss of lives and twisted minds.

He wrote and wrote until one day he could write no more.  He put all his writings in his only suitcase and headed directly to the airport.  After 25 years he was going home, to Beirut.  He did just that, he took a one way ticket to join his fathers’ roots.  I was too frail to make the trip with him. I blessed him and bid him farewell.

In his childhood home, where his father died and he was born, he found his love and lots of joy.  For no reason at all, one afternoon, he bent his head on the sofa, ‘he was a little tired’ he said. 

A telephone call came for me echoing a hollow sound and I heard:

‘C o m e  i d e n t i f y  t h e  b o d y’.
 
Haas was buried with his father’s bones.

By Najwa

A beautiful song in memory of a wonderful mother

So many of us are losing our parents and perhaps we can help each other. That is a real gift. I was my Mother’s caregiver and at her side the last days of her life. I am also a songwriter and singer and wrote a song about my experience. I have heard from some that it helps them and I would like to share it. I have posted it on YouTube at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sI_RLR7jFs

"The Servant of Her Servant" comes from the time my Mother and I spent together during the last eight days of her life. Over the course of those days, my Mother taught me important things: How to be still, how to listen, how to forgive. We slept with my hand on her heart. I am very grateful.

I thought perhaps people might wish to hear my song. Please pass it on as you wish. Listening to it might help others as creating it helped me.

Gina

Death of a beloved mother

I would like to share my story about the death of my mother that I think should give everyone comfort. I can remember ever since I was little my mom had been in & out of the hospital.  About 15 years ago, we discovered she had gotten Hepatitis C from a blood transfusion when I was a baby in 1981 or 1982. So in recent years, my mom was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver.  We weren't very educated with what that was but she just kept getting worse. She began telling us Thanksgiving 2009, that this might be her last thanksgiving with us. The same Christmas, New Years, and any other occasion that came about before her death.  So I was the one who took care of her.  I would wash her if she needed (not very often), I researched how to heal her & help her.  I didn't want to lose my mom.  But she looked at me as her nurse.  So 2 weeks before she died, I was covering her up.  She asked me "do you love me" i said "of course I do" but I remember she had death on her face.  I knew I was gonna lose my mom soon.   So when she was in her last days, she got a stiff neck.  I felt so horrible because I couldn't help her.  I tried everything.  The day she went to the hospital I was at a custody hearing for my cousin, so I had my dad & my sister call 911 to get her out of bed.  She immediately was admitted to ICU where she went into a light coma.  I knew when I walked in her room that day at home, she was not coming back.  When I saw her in the hospital I knew my mom was in her last days.  One night, I told her, "Mom, if you have to go -go ahead.  I will take care of dad & Ray (my son that she loved & cared for, who also called her mom)."  She kept trying to respond but I couldn't understand her.  Never did I think my mom was scared she was strong.  She wanted to be out of pain.  That very weekend she asked God to stop her pain.  I always thought my mom was the strongest person ever.   So that night I went home and started falling asleep.  The hall light was on and my door open so as soon as I went to sleep, I saw a figure come in my room and realized it was my mom.  I got like a scared feeling but had no fear and thought for a second that she died.  That's when I looked at her and asked "mom? are you dead? No, you're not dead? what? what?" then she and I were in a dark room.  I don't know where, I don't know why but she didn't say one word to me the whole time.  I just knew how she felt.  She just looked at me and I knew what she was saying.  She kept pulling me to go with her and she let me know how scared she was.  I kept telling her I wish I could go but I can't I have to stay and not to be scared.  She's gonna be with God.  So she continued to pull me with her and that's when I woke up.  I told my boyfriend "Chris you have to hug me, she wants me to go with her and keeps pulling me you have to hug me." He hugged me and  I fell back to sleep immediately and when my mom and I were back in that room she was sad.  This time there was a window between us.  I kept telling her not to be scared.  So I woke up crying and finally had cried myself to sleep.  It was so hard to tell the woman who raised me and took care of me for 27 years that she had to let go.     The next morning we got a call from my family, somehow we overslept but we were told we had to hurry. Bring my son.  We got there fast and I knew as soon as i saw my momma she was so mad at me.  She didn't want to even look at me.  She was very weak and taking short breaths but somehow it was so peaceful in her room.  Tons of family members at her bedside as she took her last breaths of air.  I heard her wince in pain "help me help me" and got hysterical.  I started yelling and crying and in Spanish. She told my dad, Gilbert - tell them to shut up.  So we all started laughing a little and the tears came back watching her.  Then all of a sudden she looked up & reached up towards the ceiling and yelled "OPEN THE DOOR."  A few minutes later she slapped her forehead and we were told that was because no oxygen was getting to her brain, and she took her last breaths here on earth.  It was the hardest thing not being able to help her but so peaceful.   She died with a room full of loved ones and with my son holding one hand and me the other, while my dad closed her eyes for her and told her to not hold on anymore. When my mom yelled "open the door" there is no doubt she in my mind she about what she was saying.  I know she saw the gates of Heaven.  My oldest sister later told me she saw her look up earlier before I got there, I assume, and said she was nodding her head looking up "yes, i know, okay."  My other cousin in the room said he felt an earthquake for a quick minute.  There is no doubt in my head my mom is in Heaven.  I feel so blessed to have witnessed what I did. A week later was my last visit from her.  I was home, crying myself to sleep hugging the pillow.  I must have cried myself to sleep but I started getting that scared feeling again.  Then all of a sudden I was on my mom's lap instead of the pillow and just kept crying and saying "but mom it just hurts so much." and I heard her voice say as she played with my hair with my head in her lap "I know baby I know."  I didn't see her face but I know it was her.        Her funeral was the hardest thing but it went so right.  It was beautiful.  Even in death she is unique.  I never cried so hard than the day we buried my mom.  I know I cried hard.  I had people asking if I was okay because they thought I was never gonna stop.  But I was the baby.  My mom was the most giving, loving, forgiving - kind sweet teacher.  I know she wasn't perfect but as a mother, she was.  She taught me not to judge people and she taught me to forgive.  She never turned me away and always showed me love.  Life has been hard without her but we have to keep going.  I know I will see her again one day and look forward to it,  I try and pass on what she taught me and show my son the same kind of love.  I miss her but it would be selfish to say I wish she was still here.  She was in pain and now she's not.  She's in heaven.  I can't feel sorry for myself only be happy for her since she was truly an angel.  I later looked up what the window meant in the dream dictionary and it meant "abandonment." My mom thought I abandoned her. My mom's name was Delinda Velazquez who is now resting peacefully since 9/17/09. Sincerely, Shirley Velazquez

 

The loss of a son

Mother's Day will always be the anniversary of my son's death, no matter what date it falls on. May 9, 2010, the day I lost a piece of my heart. I have vivid memories of that day but they are brief glimpses only. He called that morning to tell me Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you! I remember being 250 miles away from my home, my other child and my family. I don't know how I threw everything I had into a suitcase and drove that distance home in the middle of the night. I can picture the scene when I finally arrived and fell into my own mom and dad's arms and collapsed. The rest is a blur. A month later, I am still numb. I cry but it is the strangest things that trigger it. Not sure what to do with all the emotion I have bottled up inside me but it scares me what might happen when the floodgates decide to open up. I am thankful I was blessed with 23 years of being his mother. I got to see him grow into this amazing young man. All the nevers kill me though... not seeing him married, not getting to be a daddy, not getting to finish travelling the world like he wanted to. I would give anything to have him back, to have one more bear hug, one more silly joke, one more meal together. Sometimes I'm afraid I will forget all the special things about him - that actually terrifies me.

Staci

Don't make hasty decisions after the death of a loved one

Hi, I wonder if you could advise people not to do anything hasty after the sudden death of a loved one.  My son committed suicide about 4 years ago and in my shock and grief I made some very foolish decisions which could cost me my home.  At the time of my son's death one of his friends was living with us and had been a part of our family for nearly 7 years. After Mark died we talked about moving but my son's friend didn't want to leave the area and my daughter and I gave in and decided that we would continue to live in the family home. 

We had financial problems and after talking between the 3 of us we remortgaged the house and because of my state of mind, I signed all 3 of us on the property title.  For the past 3 years my son's friend has been taking my daughter and I to court in order to claim our home. He put no money into the property - the property has been mine for over 30 years - and I threw it all away because my loss clouded my reason. I realize that you can do nothing to help me but I think that people should be made aware of the pitfalls when you lose a part of yourself. My son meant everything to me and I grieve for him daily - the pain never goes away - we still don't know what the outcome of this mess will be - the case keeps getting postponed and we live from day to day praying for a favourable outcome.  Thank you for your time. Regards Pauline

Losing my wife during child birth and looking after my 4 young children

My name is Steve Carter and I live in Glengormley Northern Ireland. I am writing to you today to tell you my story about my lovely wife and my fantastic children. I find writing this helps me through the heart ache and pain that I have suffered over the last 10 months. This is my story...
 
I met my wife Denise while we were both travelling around the world. I was on my sixth year of my travels and had headed back to Australia after spending the last 6 years as follows..1 year in Oz, 3 years in New Zealand and 2 years in Malaysia.
I was working for a door to door sales company for the last 6 years travelling to all these countries. I had to leave Malaysia due to my visa expiring and had the opportunity to head back to Australia to continue the door to door work there for another year.
After only a week back in oz this wonderful girl turned up for an interview with the company I was working for,  and I was immediately attracted to her. Her name was Denise McDermott. She was in the middle of a once in the life time trip around the world. This had taken her to place like America, Fiji, New Zealand and now Australia.
We hit it off together straight away with much in common. I not only feel in love with her northern Ireland accent but i started to full in love with her.
After only 2 weeks of knowing each other we ended up sharing a flat with 3 other couples in Sydney.
Things were going well until she got the opportunity to head to Melbourne with the company. Unfortunately I was not allowed to go with her as I had to stay in Sydney.
Ithought that was going to be the last I was to see of Denise.
We tried to keep in contact by phone and letters but the nature of the our work had us working long hours and all weekends.
I couldn't stop thinking of Denise and I eventually made the decision to leave sydney and head to Melbourne to met up with her again.
This was the best decision i made as we started where we had left off in Sydney very much in love.
After 2 years in Melbourne our temp working visa were coming to an end and another decision had to be made.
what to do next?
Denise had a good job to go back to in her home country of Northern Ireland and she asked me to go back there with her. of course i said yes.
I am originally from england so it was good to be a bit closer to my family and denise was happy to be back home with her family.
we arrived in northern ireland with just the suite cases we carried. Denise immediately went back to her old job working as an admin in the Northern Ireland probation board.
As for me, I had to find a job ASAP to get some money coming in. I asked around the local restaurants and got a job as a waiter.
Times were hard for the first 6 months as all the money that we had coming in went on rent and bills.
We decided to stop wasting money on rent and invest in buying a house of our own. Denise's family were a big help and helped us get a deposit on a house in Glengormley in Northern Ireland. The house needed a lot of work done on it but it was perfect.
After less than a year in Northern Ireland we had started to build ourselves a place where we could call home and the first Christmas we had together in our new home I asked Denise to marry me.
To my delight she said yes!
Due to our times of travelling we thought it would be a good idea to go abroad to get married.
So we head of to Cuba in November 2001 and got married on the beach just the 2 of us.
When we returned we starting talking about starting a family and before long we had our first son Cameron born on 11th september 2002. We were so happy everything was going so well for us. I had left the catering business and was now working in a call centre for the Halifax bank. So the financial situation was improving. This is when we decided to try for our second child.
Ethan was born on 1st June 2004.
Our family was growing and our happiness was getting stronger day by day.
The boys were fantastic and growing up so fast. i had always wanted to have a girl and even though the boys were the best and I wouldn't have changed them for the world there was still room for more kids. So after a short agreement we thought we would increase the family once more.
As you know can don't always get what you ask for and another wonderful baby boy was born on 15th August 2007. Aaron Carter
We now had 3 fantastic boys. They are handsome, bright and the best kids in the world.
Denise was approaching the milestone age of 40 in 2009 so she was thinking about should we try that one last time for a girl or be satisfied with the 3 boys we already had....
 
We decided to try for one last child if it was going to be a boy then we would have close to a five a side football team, and if it was to be a girl then that would be the cherry on top of the cake.
Denise fell pregnant in 2008. We tried desperately to find out what she was having this time but every time that we had the scan the way the baby was laying the nurse couldn't give us a clear answer we were just going to have to wait and be surprised at the birth.
Denise's pregnancy was going well, all the scans were great and the doctors were happy with the progress.
This was until week 38. 2 weeks before Denise was due she had her final check up. The doctors were a little concerned that the baby had not put on any weight in the last 2 weeks.
The said there was nothing for us to worry about but they were going to bring denise in early and start her off.
That night Denise raised a slight concern but I reassured her that all was well and that they were only doing this as a precaution.
We dropped the 3 boys off to Denise's sisters on sunday morning the 29th March 2009.
Denise kissed them good bye and told them to behave at their aunties and that they would meet their new brother and sister soon.
We headed off to hospital in good spirits excited that we were going to see our new baby son or daughter within the next day.
when we got the hospital we were taken to the maternity ward and denise settled in. The mid wives were great friendly and kind.
At about 11am they gave denise the starting gel to try and get things started and warned us that this could still take another 24 hours before the contractions would start.After 3 hours of doing nothing denise sent me home to tidy up the house and said that she would call me if anything happened.
I went home for a few hours and called Denise that evening about 8pm.
She told me that the contractions had slowly started and to come to hospital. when i arrived at the hospital they had moved Denise to the delivery suite. The contractions were stronger now but the midwife still said we could be in for a long night.
at 9:30 things were starting to happen very quickly and the contractions had got very strong and Denise was now wanting to start pushing.
An hour later the baby's head was out all was going well and the mid wife asked Denise to give one last push to get the baby out. Denise did what she was told and gave one final push. The baby came out... I turned to Denise to give her a kiss when she cried out that she had a really bad headache................ at that point all hell broke loose. Denise's eyes rolled back and started to fit. The mid wife pressed the alarm and doctors and nurses came rushing in. The baby was taken away as well. I didn't know what to do or where to stand as the doctors tried to find out had happened.
After what I thought was hours but was only a matter of minute the doctors asked me to wait in the other room with the new baby. The mid wife checked the baby over and informed me that Denise had given birth to a baby girl at 22:32 on 29th march 2009. My thoughts where going backwards and forward between our new baby daughter and what was happening to Denise. After about half an hour the doctor came in and told me what was going on. He informed me that Denise had suffered a bleed to the brain and that she had gone into arrest. They had revived her but things were not looking good. when the mid wife had asked what religion denise was and that she recommended that we call the chaplain I broke down... this was not happening this was not happening was all I kept saying.
The priest arrived and to my surprise it was Denise's family priest who we knew quite well. He comforted me and said he would let Denise's family know what was happening.
During the night Denise's family started to arrive. I didn't know what to say and what to do everything was just going in slow motion.
The doctors moved Denise into the intensive care unit where they put her on the life support machine.
the doctors explained to us all that the bleed on Denise's brain had been very large and that she was too poorly to try and move her to the main hospital in belfast until she had stabilised. That night was the longest night of my life sitting there next to denise with all these machines helping her to breath. it was like a scene out of a soap opera.. not real.
I spent the night backwards and forwards from Denise and our new bay daughter. She was doing well and the midwives were looking after her. She weighed 6lb and 1 oz and breathing normally.
The next morning the specialist examined Denise and broke the devastating news that Denise had suffered a massive brain hemorrhage and that the bleed was so large there was nothing that they could do to save her.
My world had fallen apart...
Later that day i had to make some of the most hardest decisions in my life. The first was to let Denise go and admit to myself that she was not going to survive. The next was whether to donate Denise's organs. Then the hardest was how am I going to tell the boys that their mummy is not coming home!
 
The donor people spoke to me and after chatting to Denise's family I decided that Denise would have wanted to help other people and i thought it would be good for the boys to know that their mum had helped someone after she had gone.
the next hard thing to do now was to tell the boys.
They went to school and nursery as normal on the Monday and were picked up and brought home Monday after noon.
I sat the two eldest Cameron aged 6 and Ethan aged 4 down and tried to explain to them that mummy got very sick during the night and had died and would not be coming home..... this was the hardest thing that I have ever done.
Poor little Aaron who is only 20 months would not understand so I couldn't tell him.
 
That night I went back to the hospital to say my final farewell to Denise. Before I left I told her that we were now the proud parents of not just 3 lovely boys but that of a beautiful baby daughter... who we have named Leah Grace Denise Carter.
 
That was when the doctors pronounced Denise's death and i gave her a final kiss goodbye.
 
 
I am especially proud of the boys they have had to go through so much over the last few months and they are doing so well.
I have also had so much support from my family but especially Denise's family. she has 4 sisters 3 of which live near by. they have all been around every day to help me look after Leah and the boys.
I have had some OK days and some bad days and I know that there will be many more of these to come. I know I have the strength to carry on when I look at my fantastic children.
I just hope that Denise heard my final words and knew that she had given birth to the daughter that she always wanted. I also hope she is looking down on us and proud of what we are all doing.
 
I hope you get chance to read this, even if you don't think you can share this with anyone else it has been a big help for me to share this with you just writing this down has made my cry but at the same time has helped me express my feeling.

Reflecting On the Loss of a Child 7 Years Later

As the seven year anniversary of my second son’s birth approaches I look back on it with bittersweet memories. Lukas Kevin was born on June 18, 2002 and he passed away sixteen days later on July 4th.   He was born perfect and healthy. During my five days at the hospital he had contracted viral meningitis but didn’t show symptoms until the day after we were released from the hospital. We rushed him to a children’s hospital. Luke never left that children’s hospital. Over the next 11 days the meningitis virus did irreversible heart and brain damage.

As I look back on Luke’s birth and pregnancy, I have some funny memories.  I fondly recall lying on my pregnant stomach as I clumsily reached for fallen pacifiers under my first son’s bed.  I remember driving myself to the hospital while in labor.  I remember joking with the hospital nurses and laughing a lot the night Luke was born. I remember being happy. I rarely share these memories because all that happened afterwards makes people uncomfortable.

 I think of Luke everyday, many times a day.  However, the thoughts are fleeting, and quick.  They don’t consume me as they did the first few months or even years after he died. However, there is not a day that goes by that I do not remember that I had a child, and that child is not here. Sometimes, unexpectedly, my emotions will overcome me. For instance, I brought my first grade class to an assembly before Christmas last year given by Children’s Mercy Hospital. When I saw the slideshow of pictures from the Ronald McDonald House, I was unable to stay.  However, as the years roll by, instances like this have become the exception, where they used to be the norm.  I am always aware of Luke and my loss of him but I am no longer consumed by it.

The best way I can describe my grief over the years is to use the analogy of an onion.   During those painful days in June and July of 2002 every time my son’s health would take a turn for the worse I felt like a part of my soul was being ripped away.

I tortured myself with unanswerable questions. Why didn’t I take better care of myself? I asked myself if I could have prevented Luke from contracting meningitis. I recalled with horror how I decided that it was time to take him off the life support machine. I questioned how a good, selfless mother could make such a decision. I dwelled on the memory of driving home from the hospital the day he died. We stopped to pump gas and stood outside the car looking at the empty infant carrier in the back.

My husband and I spoke at his funeral. Friends and family have asked how we were able to do that. The answer is simple. We did it because it was the only thing we would ever be able to do for him.

 By the time, the funeral was over my soul was raw and without layers. By layers, I mean pretenses, prejudices, all that made sense in the world.  Nothing pre-Luke mattered, I thought about quitting my job, selling my house, I littered my house with literature on grief. I was consumed by all things concerning life and death. I recall staring at blades of grass and thinking about how they were a living being. I had nagging pains in my legs. I had a hard time taking care of my first son, who was just two years old.

 I was vulnerable and raw and I spoke my mind plainly and forcefully. In fact, I was not always very nice. Upon hearing about the birth of a new niece in the family, I knocked over a statue of the Blessed Mother and kicked her in the head. I sent a scathing e-mail to a friend who sent me one of those pass-it-on prayer chains.  I did not mince words, I said whatever I felt.

 In those early days of grief, I also felt loved by my friends and family in a way that I had never felt before. The kindness, generosity and sympathy of the community in which I lived and worked were incredible. I found that I was less judgmental and more accepting of people’s opinions and differences.

 I liked my new ability to just look at the good in people, not dwell on their faults. I also liked my new found candor. It felt great to blurt out whatever I was thinking or feeling.

Luke made me a better person. However, I refuse to believe that was his purpose though. I don’t like being told that everything happens for a reason. There was no reason for my son to endure that horrible disease. It just happened and if you are foolish enough to use that platitude on me I will make use of my sharp tongue.

Over the last seven years I must admit that my onion layers have grown back. People annoy me, petty chores get on my nerves, I complain about the amount of laundry. However, I see my children as my greatest gifts and love them fiercely. I approach my students with a gentler heart than ever before. Thanks to Luke I have a wisdom that I never wanted or expected, but appreciate anyway.
 

Every year as June approaches I feel a slight nagging depression. It stays until after the 4th of July and then lifts. Every year at this time painful memories come to the surface and I allow myself to wallow in sadness for just a bit. 

Lucky for me, I have my love and my greatest supporter to pull me through these sad days. My husband Keith knows in an instant when I’m thinking about Luke. He can sense it. We talk honestly and openly about our loss and regret. The loss of Luke solidified our relationship. We clung to each other through the experience and cared for one another afterwards. Over the years, we have been able to get through all other challenges.  We know that if we could survive the loss of a child, that we can endure anything.

 Every year we keep busy during these 16 days and we hug and laugh with our children. Our favorite expression is that we “marinate” them in love.  My husband and I feel that is important for our two surviving children to know that they had a brother. We talk about him occasionally and we try to commemorate his birthday each year with something simple such as a picnic. We have the video of his birth and every few years, if our children ask, we will show it to them.

 You never get over losing a child. The pain and loss are a part of you for life. However, you keep living, laughing and loving your family.

Written by Laurie Marenco Kremer in memory of her son Lukas Kevin.
June 18, 2009- Luke’s 7th Birthday

Linda's story: the tragedy of stillbirth

hi my name is linda i am 31 yrs old i fell pregnant for the first time with a person i love dearly. all through the pregnancy everything went fine the baby was healthy good heart beat and all i was due on may 30 2009 which is not too long ago i lost a beautiful little baby boy who went by the name of nathan william smith cassidy i was at 39 weeks of labour i delivered him natural he was still born on may 29 at 2:10 a.m. in the morning i do miss all the time he was living and moving inside me now the toughest part for me and my boyfriend and family is still too come the funeral of our little boy which i didnt choose the date yet but will be soon me and my boyfriend are deeply heart broken and in sorrow we miss our son dearly we got the chance too see him we both kissed him and held him closely in our arms. we will never forget him and will always love him forever so dearly in our hearts he died from an umbilical cord accident a knot had formed so the only thing we tell ourselves now is life goes on but will we ever get over this god only knows the answer too that so thats my story i sure hope this could help any mother out there who has witnessed a nightmare like we did ... linda and john june/3/2009

In loving memory of Gary William Gibbs

We had first met at a Christian Teen Camp at Nanoose Bay, here on Vancouver Island, in mid July 1972.  I was there, with 5 girlfriends as dishwashers, as none of our parents could afford the cost.  He was standing quietly in front of the Lodge, with his bike, looking so very shy!
I found myself wandering over, just to get a closer look, as he was so very handsome.  I asked if he was staying at all, to which he replied 'no'.  He had just ridden down from Powell River to see this place he'd heard so much about.  And as he was working at the Mill there, for his Dad, he'd have to be heading back pretty quick.
At the time, I was 16 and he was 17.
We never saw each other again, until early 2000.
 
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I worked at the Safeway, close to downtown Victoria and there was a particular gorgeous customer, who came in, only about twice a week.  But every day, I hoped to see him.  Even though he had asked me out twice, and I'd declined, as I was twice divorced and therefore terrified of making yet another mistake.
On one of my weekly trips out to see my Mom, I complained to her about him, and Mom did something she'd never EVER done.  Told me, loudly, to ask HIM out!  Well, I thought she was getting old & losing it, so I more or less ignored her statement.
But, I never forgot.
 
After more time had passed, I discovered that he was one of the top Carpenters in the city, so I asked him if he could do some minor repairs in my apartment in late fall 2003.
Shortly after that, we had our first dinner out, and started sharing & basically putting pieces together.............then found out who the other one really was!
And all this time, the boy from Powell River, that handsome young man at Nanoose Bay, had been right here!
 
We started recounting days, months, years of our lives, and mistakes we'd made.  They were unbelievably, near identical!
During my two previous bad marriages, I had thought & wondered of him so very many times, and he the same of me!
And after meeting at Nanoose Bay, he had gotten my address from my dearest Aunt who was the Supervisor at the time, and mailed a lovely lavender stone on a gold chain.  When it arrived, I had given it to my Mom, as she loved that colour, and I figured that someone that good looking, would never want me, therefore I didn't reply to his letter.
Something I've never forgiven myself for.
Since I'd happily & finally been single, I'd seriously thought of driving up to the Ferry & going to Powell River, and somehow finding the Mill, to ask about him.
Which was itself just plain ridiculous, as I didn't keep that precious letter from him, and therefore didn't even know his name.
 
We were married April 17th, 2004!
 
It was almost immediately afterwards that he took ill, and for someone in such excellent physical condition, went slowly downhill for the next three years.
 
Gary never took off his wedding ring or crucifix, but on April 12th, 2007, he asked me while so ill, laying in bed, to take them off, without giving a reason.  It scared me so much, as my dear Mom had done the same thing four years prior, and just 2 days before she had passed away!
 
And, so, my handsome, kind loving thoughtful Christian husband, the only man of my dreams, who gave me the best three years of my life, just slipped away and joined my Mom & Dad in GLORY, on April 14th, 2007.
I had never been treated as well, or loved and adored, the way he did me!
 
Well, it's been over 16 months now, since I lost him.
I didn't realize just how horrific a broken heart could be.  I've heard others say, it was like literally having half your heart ripped out.  And, they were so right!
 
To let others know, isn't easy, but for some reason, 3 months ago I had a sudden strong urge to begin this, and have been sharing my story with many others since.
This has been one of the most difficult journeys in my entire life.
And no, it doesn't get any easier with time!
 
Around April 21st, 2007, in our bedroom, about 15-20 min after I'd gone to bed, the chain attached to our blinds, for winding/moving them, loudly rattled.  At first, I thought it was our Tabby Cats, but no, as each and every single night it happened, I would find where they were.  Then thought it must be the wind, even though they'd never rattled before.  So then I was sure it was the wind, as we live right by the ocean, but again...........no, as we face the opposite direction. 
I had also seen many times, shadows here and there, since Gary's death.  And almost every time, our kitties would charge out from where ever they'd been, either sleeping or playing, to sniff the exact same area enthusiastically, where I'd just seen the shadow, seconds before.
So, after a while, I realized it was my Gary!
Well, it's amazing, how time does roll on and on, and pretty much things remained the same around here.
Until one night.............April 20th, 2008.
 
Gary's eldest daughter, had been working overseas, with the United Church for a year, starting almost around the time she lost her Dad.
Her only sister & Mom had been with me for the Burial Service, but I'd often thought of her.  For some strange reason on that night, I felt a sudden urgent need to phone their house.  Well, I was pleasantly surprised when she answered, telling me she was back from abroad for a while.  It was just so lovely to hear her beautiful voice, as I had desperately been wanting to tell her, how very much her Dad was proud of her, and as I did that, from the far bedroom, the chain on the blinds rattled!
They had rattled EVERY SINGLE NIGHT..............but after THAT night, they have NEVER rattled again!
 
 
So, dear readers..............that was my wonderful husband, telling me, that I'd finally done what was so very important to him!  Just to let his first born know, how proud and pleased with her actions, at the young age of 19, that he was!
(I've often wished I had done the same with my life, instead of destroying 25 years on 2 bad marriages, my Mom had forbidden!)
And here she was, devoting herself to the work of our dear Lord & Saviour.
 
I've been told by those who knew us best, to write a book on our lives.  But unfortunately, both sides of our families would not be very pleased.
 
Just remember something that my Mom taught me, as a very small child, & never have forgotten...........
Christ will NEVER leave us, nor forsake us!
No matter how stupid, idiotic or just plain disastrous we make our lives.
He will carry us through...
 
These Bible scriptures have literally been my sustenance & strength:
 
My Child, you may not know me, but I know everything about you!  (Psalm 139:1)
I know when you sit down & when you rise up.  I am familiar with all your ways!  (Psalm 139:3)
For you were made in my image!  (Genesis 1:27)
You are my offspring!  (Acts 17:28)
You were not a mistake!  For all your days are written in my book!  (Psalm 139: 15-18)
I determined the exact time of your birth & where you would live!  (Acts 17:28)
My plan for your future has always been filled with hope!  (Jeremiah 29:11)
My thoughts toward you are as countless as the sand on the seashore!  (Psalm 139:17-18)
And I rejoice over you with singing!  (Zephaniah 3:17)
When you are brokenhearted, I am close to you!  (Psalm 34:18)
As a shepherd carries a lamb, I have carried you close to my heart!  (Isaiah 40:11)
One day, I will wipe every tear from your eyes & I'll take away all the pain you have suffered here on this earth!
(Revelation 21:3-4)
I gave up everything I loved that I might gain your love!  (Romans 8: 31-32)
My question is, will you be my child?  (John 1: 12-13)
I am waiting for you.  (Luke 15:11-32)
 
My deepest prayers are with those of you who are also heartbroken, in grief & despair.
God Bless!
 
Sincerely yours, in Christ alone,
Sheila Joyce Gibbs
 
'In loving Memory of Gary William Gibbs'.

From A Tear To A Smile

Looking down at the cemetery plot, I could only feel tears streaming down my face. My grandmother had just passed away at the age of 96, almost 97. People were constantly saying to me, "...but she lived a full and long life;" however, at that moment none of those statements really mattered. I only felt a sense of loss - a huge one at that.

Still, with my eyes on the grave, with tears welling up, I began remembering my grandmother. I could even begin seeing what I thought might be shadows of her in the cemetery grave. I thought I was also experiencing the wonderful scents of her kitchen - the aroma of her wonderful chicken soup that filled her pots every Friday afternoon and the fragrance of the sizzling potato pancakes which always had been my favorites.

Just then I remembered a story about my grandmother when she was in the hospital one time, already in her late 80's. She was in a special hospital room for an x-ray to be taken. The technician left the room ready to turn the x-ray machine on; however, my grandmother started screaming, "WAIT, WAIT!"

The technician stormed back into the room frantically asking, "Mrs. Segal, Mrs. Segal, are you okay? What's the matter?"

To this my almost 90-year-old grandmother calmly replied, "You failed to ask me whether I might be pregnant."

That, and many more positive stories about my grandmother, told me who she really was. As I stood at the cemetery, I noticed that my tears had changed to smiles.

The key, I believe, to overcoming grief is in "memories." As long as I remember my grandmother in my heart, she will always be "with me."

As the funeral ended, I whispered to my grandmother that I loved her very much and would visit her soon - if not at the cemetery, then in my memories.

Michael Jordan Segal, (c) 2001

Michael Segal is a social worker at Memorial Hermann Hospital in Houston, Texas. An author and an inspirational speaker. He has been on national television as well as having national magazines feature stories about his "comeback" following his being shot in the head and left for dead as an innocent bystander to a robbery. Mike's story, "My Miraculous Family," was first published in "Chicken Soup for the Christian Family Soul." To contact Mike by email, use [email protected] or visit his website at: www.inspirationbymike.com