Tuesday, The 4th of April 1989, began as any other day. I was up early so the children could get to school and morning routines followed. I straightened the house, planned an evening meal and intended to go to Springfield to visit a friend at the end of her work day.

At 10 am, my daughter Anita, (called Sis by family and friends) age 16 and a sophomore at Willard high School called. She had a headache and wanted to come home. Her headaches had been frequent of late and I told her I thought she should stay in school as she had missed several days recently.

She was having some extensive dental work done and it seemed she was home more than in school. How I regret not allowing her to come home that day.

I went to Springfield and returned home about 3 P.M. Just as I walked into the house, the phone rang. It was someone from the high school. Sis had collapsed during gym class and was in the nurses office. I rushed out and drove the few blocks to the school. Inside, I found her lying on a cot. A teacher was applying a cold compress to her head where she had hit it when she fell.

She was crying, but couldn't speak. Being a teenager, their first thought was drugs. I was so shocked to know they thought she had taken drugs. I said, "Sis, did you take something?" She moaned and attempted to speak and I noticed her mouth was drooping. I immediately knew when I saw it that she had suffered a stroke. I requested that someone call for an ambulance.

It seemed forever before they arrived for they had to come from Springfield which is at least 15 miles. The paramedics lifted her into the ambulance and I rode in the front with them. The medics also assumed it was drugs and they were not very gentle with her. After arriving at the hospital they took her into emergency and immediately began testing for drugs. I told them that she didn't use drugs but what do parents know of their teenagers? To the best of my knowledge she never used drugs and I had never had any reason to believe that she had. She was so frightened. She could hear and understand but she could not speak, she could only cry.

She was paralyzed on her right side and could not open her eyes. I asked if she could hear me and she squeezed my hand. I asked her to look at me and she lifted her left hand and attempted to hold her eye open-and she cried. They administered a drug into her right hand in an attempt to discover what type of "drug" she had taken. All the while I tried to tell them there was something very wrong and it wasn't caused by drugs. I knew she had suffered a stroke and I could not understand why they could not see that also.

At this point, she began to have seizures. They racked her body so hard that they brought her to a sitting position, something she could not accomplish at this time under her own power. I watched her hair turn from a light blonde to a sandy blonde due to the drugs they had administered to her. At the time I did not realize what had caused the change but was informed later.

After more seizures her response grew weaker. They came into the room and announced that they were going to take her to neuro-intensive for more intense test. They also agreed, finally, that she had suffered a stroke.

My other children had gathered at the hospital by that time, except for the youngest, whom I had left with a baby sitter. I knew we were due for a long night so I decided to go home and change clothes and get him settled for the night.

I managed a shower and was in the process of preparing to return to the hospital when the phone rang. It was the hospital and the Chaplain had asked to speak with me. My first thought was, 'Oh God, no'. I thought we had already lost her. Instead, he told me they had discovered what caused the stroke. He said that the carotid artery (the main artery in a person's body that moves blood to the brain) in her neck had ruptured causing blood to leak into the brain area, therefore she had suffered a stroke. The only choice was surgery. My verbal permission was needed in order for the hospital staff to proceed . Then more shocking news. I was told they would need to remove a vein from her leg to repair the damage and there was a possibility that she could lose her leg. I told them to do whatever was necessary and when I hung up the phone I left immediately for the hospital again.

I arrived there in a short while. My children were in surgery waiting and no one had an update as yet. I was soon to know that the surgery would not help. She was beyond help. She was placed on a respirator and moved to children's intensive care. Her father, whom I had contacted as soon as I arrived at the high school that afternoon, was in Ohio and it would take him another day to get home.

I could not reconcile myself to the fact that this was happening. My mind could not accept it. I couldn't think and I was in a total state of shock. No one had to tell me. I knew, my daughter was dying ... and I could not prevent it.

By the time they had her settled in children's intensive care, it was midnight. We had been given a room near the intensive care unit and could go there at anytime. There were so many people there with me, yet I do not know who. I had been given a sedative to help me sleep.

I lay across one of the beds. Thoughts rushing through my mind would not allow me to sleep. I kept thinking, why didn't I let her come home? Why didn't I realize something was wrong? She had been having headaches often.

The noise had ceased in the room. I don't think I ever went to sleep but the sedative had relaxed me and I might have dozed.

I remembered being awakened by 'something' and as my thoughts cleared, I could see a most brilliant, beautiful light and what I saw in that light will stay in my memory always. It was Jesus, and he stood with his arms outstretched, like the statue in the chapel that I had seen. I knew he was there to take our Sis home. I arose and went to her bedside, I could see no change in her appearance, but I knew she was no longer there. Jesus had come for her and he had allowed me to know.

At that time I told no one of what I had seen and have told very few even now.

Later that morning, about 6am, the doctors came in and told us that she was legally "brain dead" and asked if we would consider donating her organs. Some of my family members became upset at this request, but I thought I knew my daughter. I knew she would agree to this if she was given the choice. But we had to wait for her dad to get home for he still wasn't aware that she was gone. I realized the narrow time span for such decisions but I could not make that decision alone without her Dad present to agree or to disagree. Jerry did not arrive in town until early Thursday morning and he arrived at the hospital as soon thereafter as possible.

He was devastated, of course. I think, in his mind, this was the ultimate horror. He could not accept it either. We gave him some time alone to absorb the shock but I knew that we had to make the decision concerning the organs donation soon.

The Chaplain was a very close friend to Sis and our entire family. His daughter, Michelle, had grown up with Sis and they had attended school and church together so he was there to help us understand what was being asked of us. Although I knew that some of our family members were not agreeable with what we were contemplating it was our decision, and one I have never regretted.

We also learned that the weakened carotid artery could have been a condition she was born with, but we will never know that for certain.

The next two years are a blur. I know I existed, functioned, and survived somehow, but I do not remember much that happened during that time of my life. . I still had Jamie at home who was devastated by his sister's death. He was 11 years old at the time.

I tried to keep my mind occupied, but I shed many tears. There were times I could smell her perfume. Perfume had become a "big issue" between us. I thought she applied far too much and I would tell her to "tone it down." I have smelled that perfume many times since her death and I knew she was near.

There is truth in the old adage of "Time heals all wounds." While we never forget the hurt, time helps us learn how to deal with it. I never want to forget and I never shall forget. There are still days.. birthdays, holidays, the beginning of a school year, that are difficult to get through.

I try to remember the good times, and will not let the bad thoughts in. There may even be some truth in the belief that we can cause our loved one to be 'earthbound' by our grief.

Perhaps that is what had happened for I began to hear the words, "It's okay Momma," over and over in my mind. I realized that I wasn't letting go. I couldn't. I sat down one night and wrote the words on paper, and I heard the rest in my mind. I know Sis was letting me know it was okay to let go. This is what I heard and wrote:

IT'S OKAY MOMMA

On angry wings these thoughts arrive-
her life is gone, yet I survive.
What kind of reasoning could there be
to take one so young, and yet leave me.

What sort of destiny could be fulfilled?
In sixteen years her life was stilled.
My heart is broken beyond repair-
my days are troubled with despair.

Then an Angels voice I hear-
without a doubt my Sis is near.
Watching quietly from above
whispering softly words of love.

My time on Earth was at its end
then JESUS came, my old friend.
He carried me to our Home on high
I'm sorry, Momma, you had to cry.

I'm waiting here at Heavens door
to welcome you ..and what's more,
no one here ever cries. It's okay
Momma ... everyone dies.

1995 Sandra Buckley

I have not forgotten, but I have finally let go.

Sandra

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