Some moments in life become etched in our memory like a eternal photograph, never fading with time. Every glance at it in our minds eye brings feelings just as strong as the day it was. I have many of those, many sad. Such is the moment I saw my oldest, my first son, laying lifeless in a metal pan.
It was in the last month of pregnancy. The baby was already a part of our life. An excited but overwhelmed father feels the life inside kicking and moving and a heart melts. "This is life" a voice whispers inside, this is purpose.
But alas, one evening a frantic call, terror begins. Alone in our unfinished home, she lay on the floor of the bathroom. Phone to my ear, heart racing, I talk to the emergency people. They walk me through a birth process, early, but something is not right. Nothing makes sense. There is no Baby.
Placenta previa they called it later . At home, little chance for survival. Just me, her, and the phone. Prayer. Terror. The realization that something is horribly wrong.
Later at the hospital Dr had explained what had happened to a shaking, alone, young man of barely 20. In an instant it was all over. Purpose gone, nothing makes sense. I ask where my child is. He tries to redirect. I persist. I must meet this little life that I knew. He hesitates, but finally gives in. Walks me into the er room.
It is surreal. A light shines over a metal pan. We stop, him asking if I am sure. Yes. We slowly walk over and all i see is that pan, glowing in the light. Everything else fades. Life fades.
Stephen.
My first. I loved you. I say goodbye. Life goes on, touched by your presence. Your job done here. You may rest.
Someday we will all be together, I pray. All.
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