| The Nameless Friend | |
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~ Welcome to
Stories of Heart! ~
If you are not a subscriber and this has been passed on to you, join us by sending a blank e-mail to [email protected] with "subscribe" in the subject line. And get the love direct! Tour our web site: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001 ________________________________________________________ Folks, we continue to feel your love as we traverse the "in sickness" part of our marriage vows. Stephen is mending well, crawling all over the place on kneepads when he's not elevating his legs or watering his gardens in his wheelchair. I like to joke that he makes a handy end table. Our boys are pitching in wherever they can. We feel blessed to have such a wonderful, caring community reaching out to us during this time. I bring to you a writer whose stories have touched many lives, especially mine. No doubt her heartfelt story below is one that will resonate with you long after you've read it. Please give my friend, Ellie, a Texas-sized hug. _________________________________________________________ THE NAMELESS FRIEND I've visited many funeral homes over the past three decades, but when I was there to view my only son for the final time, it was as if I'd never been. There were no rules of etiquette, and acting naturally was impossible. I couldn't sit still because when I did, I was bombarded with thoughts that I could not handle. Thinking brought grief, pain, disbelief, anxiety, suffering. Dealing with the reality of Jason's death was something my mind and my heart were not prepared for. The more I thought about things, the more I was faced with unanswered questions. Jason had been on his way to compete in the Western Canadian finals in Track and Field on a lovely Sunday morning. Two Americans who had been behind him said he was driving fine, then suddenly the car went out of control. The men applied CPR and contacted the emergency Medical team, but Jason was dead at the young age of 17. He would never run on this earth again. We had all lost, not just a superb athlete, but a human being who cared about others, a young man who would have made a significant difference. I had lost my youngest child, my friend, my reason for laughter. Why did the car go out of control? I'd had the car fixed recently. In trying to save money did I select a mechanic who was unskilled? Why hadn't I been with Jason? Perhaps if I had he would still be alive? What happened that day? Jason's doctor suspected an aneurysm. I could not face reading the medical examiner's report. Too many thoughts! Too many questions and no answers. Keeping busy pushed away the thoughts. That hurt less. I stood up and walked over to the casket, huge sprays of flowers banking either side. I looked down on my son and ached to lift him up and hold him. What if I did that? Was the back of his head so damaged I would discover some of the injuries he had sustained? More realities to move away from! I touched him and could not feel his presence. I moved away to let the flowers hold my attention. I wondered who had sent all these flowers and began reading the cards, then I’d read them a second time out loud to tell my daughters and their dad who had sent what. I was choked up with the kind sentiments, the outpouring of love, and positive thoughts. Still feeling that need to be busy I moved toward the back of the funeral parlour. That was when I noticed the feet. I could see that at the very back and to the right of the main entrance someone sat out of sight. Only the shoes and bit of trouser leg indicated somebody was present. Curiously I wondered who it was and why he was hidden. I continued past the entrance until he came into view. I was seeing a distressed young man, about seventeen years old. Since he looked to be the age of my son, I thought perhaps he was a fellow student, or a team mate from the Titan's Athletic Track Club. I was puzzled. I thought I knew all of Jason's friends and his teammates. I had never seen this young person. I spoke to him, "Excuse me, I don't know you." He looked so shy and vulnerable and seemed somewhat uncomfortable as he stood. He replied, "I'm sorry. I don't belong here, but your son was always kind to me. He would take time to talk to me at school. I know I don’t belong, but I had to come." I felt his uneasiness and knew it must have taken a lot to come and to speak, but here he was and he didn’t know he had brought a gift. Grateful tears burned in my eyes. He was allowing me to see my son through his eyes and as he spoke to me, I pictured Jason in my mind's eye, laughing, caring about others, interested in those around him. I could picture the two of them talking, Jason with his tall lanky frame and his melt-your-heart smile. I could see him listening to this young man, caring about what he had to say, taking time for others! This youth was confirming that Jason was a good person, a caring person. I was so overcome with emotion that I found it difficult to express myself. I reached out for his hand in gratitude, really wanting to hug him, and said, "Yes, you do belong here. Thank you for coming. Thank you for telling me about my son." I didn't see him again until the following day at the cemetery. I was at the graveside, at Jason's grave. People surrounded me yet I felt so alone. How could I go on without Jason? We had lived alone, our bedrooms side by side. We had chatted and laughed even as we lay in our beds at night. We had shopped at strange hours and were sometimes out of the house and down at work as early as six in the morning. Jason, not wanting to catch a bus to school, would travel down with me to the Y.M.C.A where I worked as a director. If I had an early class to teach he would sleep in the Health club until time to go to class. He shared my life. I shared his. How could he be dead? This was not real. Please give me back my son! I needed comfort. I needed someone to hold me and take away the pain. I just needed to be close to another human being to take away this wretched separated feeling. I reached out to whomever stood behind me. Tears pouring down my face, blurring my vision. I did not know whose hand held mine, but he held tightly, knowing my pain. The tight grasp telegraphed caring and understanding and I cried all the more. When the tears stopped, I looked up into the warm caring face of that same youth from the funeral home. For the second time in two days he was comforting me. Words were not needed, not spoken. He was just there for me. Later Jason's close friends spoke with me. They told me that at school the young fellow had few friends and was considered a geek. I didn't see him that way. He had a quiet way about him and a caring attitude. He was the kind of person I would call "friend," as my son had done. Like a friend,
he was at my side and understood my need for human touch.
Without words he offered his strength and compassion.
Like a friend, he gave me treasured good news about my son.
I never saw him again. Even now thirteen years later I
think about him and wish I knew his name. Ellie continues to celebrate the life of her son and the first celebration was a book of children’s activities (a book for Kindergarten teachers) in memory of Jason. This was followed by a book about angel encounters, death bed visions, Near Death Experiences, After Death Communications and more. That book "A Little Door, A Little Light" is available from Eagle Creek Publishers (http://www.eaglecreek.org) and Amazon.com. She also edits
an on-line newsletter, "Angels On Earth" http://www.eaglecreek.org/angel
and continues to collect stories for a second book. Says
Ellie, "I know the stories in these books will help ease
the pain for many who have lost a loved one and will plant a
seed of hope for others." "Uh-uh!" seven-year-old Cody disagreed. "Uh-huh!" "Uh-uh!" Ethan threw his
hands up in despair and said, "Let's stop arguing!
Gentlemen don't argue!" Hi Jennifer,
I'm glad you cleared this up..I was going to write you to see
what happened to you folks! I was sure AOL was NOT
sending your stories my way, since it was happening with
Heartwarmers too! So sorry to hear about your hubby,
glad he is improving and will be up and about soon! If
you think a 40th surprise is fun, what until you hit the big
50! That can be a bit overwhelming! LOL! God
bless! - Diane Dean White _________________________________________________________ |
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