Stories

“My Little Angel, Michael” ©

It was early afternoon, a sunny and warm 3rd of  July, 1985. It was my younger brother’s birthday and I was at work, Watch Sergeant  at the Sheriff’s Marina Del Rey station.  It had been a quiet day for a 4th of  July holiday, until one of the deputies said, “Sarge, your son Joey is on the phone”. Adrenaline immediately shot through my veins at the unexpected call from my, otherwise, shy son! Characteristically, eight year old  Joey got straight to the point, “Michael drowned!“

I helicoptered to the hospital’s emergency room in Orange County where CHOC doctors & nurses had worked feverishly to save my son. I was told Michael was dead. He was 3 1/2, the youngest of my five sons. After a career of protecting people, especially children, my own child was gone forever. To many, he was just another tragic statistic added to the annual summer swimming pool accident list. But he was a precious gift from God, who made a significant impact on those around him in such a short period of time. I realized the depth of my love for all my boys  as the loss of Michael manifested itself within me. The depth of my despair was in direct proportion to the depth of my love for my children; it was overwhelming. A physically crushing weight that drove me to my knees and onto the emergency room floor; the nurses cried, I sobbed. Then the demon began seizing my soul driving me to self absorption, guilt, blame, anger, thoughts of oblivion, directing my ire at heaven. Why had God had forsaken me? Take my life, not this little child’s!

Hundreds of family & friends came to the church and graveside services. It was all surreal, a painful fog-like daze. I was unable to have a clear, lucid conversation with anyone, including my children. My mind swirled in despair and grief. My despair increased with each passing day; I was lost deep within myself, unable to escape. I had always harbored a fearful place in my soul, a place that I would consciously avoid. I believe many parents have a place like this, where the fear of losing your child lies in wait like a murderous demon, a demon waiting for the chance to grab your soul. Unfortunately, that’s exactly where I was and the demon was more ghastly and tortuous than I had feared.

Two weeks after Michael’s death, I lay in my bed of agony. I was staring out the mini blinded bedroom window that opened to the rear alleyway. It was night and the room was dark lit only by the ambient light from outside. The street lights illuminated the telephone poles which looked like crosses. I could see the dew glistening on power & telephone lines. I was awake, but in a “trance” of despair. I was starring straight ahead, out the window, when the room seemed to go absolutely quiet. I could feel a presence, who was this at my bed side? Then suddenly, but in a gentle way, I heard a voice, it was the voice of my son Michael. He “spoke” to me. His words seemed to come directly into my thoughts not through my ears. He said, “Dad I’m here”. My heart pounded as adrenaline raced through my veins. I kept starring straight ahead looking more closely at the objects outside the window, the telephone poles, the dew, and the wires. I made a conscious effort to convince myself that I was awake and not dreaming. I repeatedly blinked my eyes and pinched myself; I  was not dreaming, I was awake!

Then Michael said to me, “Dad, I know the great pain you are in, I am in no pain. If you want,  just reach your right hand out to the side of the bed and take my hand. When your hand is in mine, get up and you can come with me. You’ll be in pain no more.” My heart was really pounding now, but I continued to stare straight ahead. I told myself that if I took Michael’s hand I would probably have a fatal heart attack that would enable me to go with him. Then it sunk in, if I took Michael’s hand, I would be gone. I wouldn’t be around for my other four surviving sons who  might need me in the furture; I couldn’t leave now!  As soon as I had this thought, the “presence” of Michael was gone.

Epilog:

It’s been 31 years since that moment and the event is as vivid today as it was that night.  I still battle despair & grief as it builds and subsides, but I’m not alone in the battle anymore. Although I’m never too far from tears, I made the right choice. I have been able to be there for my other sons & daughter over time. There have been weddings, new grand children, and God has blessed me with one of His personal emissaries, my wife.  I have witnessed my sons & daughter grow into exceptional men and woman; I am very proud of them. Michael never visited me again, but I look forward to seeing him in heaven when my time comes. I am ever grateful to God for allowing me that glimpse into the “event horizon” of the hereafter. That one last moment with Michael and confirmation that he had no pain on his passage into heaven. The joy and love I continue to experience with my children & wife is a blessing that is greater than my fear of my “dark” place . It’s an easier place to avoid as I celebrate their lives and battle the demon with  Jesus at my side.  I pray when my day comes and I stand at the edge of the “Event Horizon” that I may visit them one last time. However, I’m not waiting for that moment for I love them everyday while here on earth and will look forward to our “eternal” reunion.