Billabong An olive green sweatshirt, with �Billabong� embroidered across the front. It is a very precious item to me. Not to wear, but a keepsake, a sort-of security blanket. It belonged to my daughter, Suzanne. I saw her in that sweatshirt many a time. She died very unexpectedly in June 2005. My only daughter, my best friend, is gone from this earth. (But very much alive in Heaven!) The sixteenth day of June, I had the devastating task of seeing my daughter for the last time in the emergency room. The opportunity to say a final farewell to her was lost as her friend and I were enroute to the hospital. She passed from this life to eternal life an hour before we got to her. My experience in that hospital�s ER, is described in my short manuscript, �The Heartache of Hanford�. I don�t know what time it was when we left the hospital and drove several miles to Suzanne�s apartment. I know that her friend, her boyfriend, and I spent some time outside of the hospital calling loved one�s to give them the tragic news. I felt and probably looked like a zombie when I walked from the car to her apartment. I couldn�t tell if my feet were making contact with the ground, I was so numb with sorrow. Many of the details of being in her home that day have hidden themselves from me. One important fact I will always remember is finding the Billabong sweatshirt in the bathroom. Suzanne must have changed her clothes to go out the previous evening and left what she had been wearing on the floor in the bathroom. I glanced at the clothes on the floor, it tore at my heart. There is reality. Her clothing a bitter reminder that she�d never wear them again. I looked at myself in the mirror, but didn�t really care about my appearance. When your heart is broken, such things are not significant. Instead, I saw Suzanne all around me in that bathroom. Her makeup, toothbrush, hairbrush, so many cruel indications that she wouldn�t need these things anymore. My eyes spotted the sweatshirt on the floor. I felt compelled to pick it up. I cuddled it to my chest, next to my heart. That Billabong sweatshirt was embraced by me all day and into the night. I wept into it, I hugged it as if it were Suzanne, I held onto it for strength. It was a �God Thing� for sure. Maybe Suzanne wanted me to have her Billabong sweatshirt and God sent an angel to whisper in my ear, �Pick up the shirt�. I�m so very glad that I did. I have sobbed into that sweatshirt and held onto it for comfort. It has a special place on my bed. Folded up neatly, it rests by the pillows after the bed is made each morning. It is, indeed, my security blanket. I use it often and will keep it until it�s my turn to leave for home. Next time you see anything �Billabong�, think of Suzanne. I certainly do. NES 3/24/07
