Before reading this story, why don’t you read it underneath the blanket with flashlight only. It will be scary!
This centers around happenings related to my mother and father, who both have died within the last year. Last year was full of tragedy for me, and if not for my children, I’m not sure how depressed I would be. Well, on with it. My mother had been a diabetic for years and during the last 2 years she really failed in health. Her kidneys failed her, and she was on dialysis. She recovered enough to stop the treatments, but then her liver was giving up.
One day, my uncle came to the house to tell me something. For this uncle to come and not call, I immediately thought it was my mom. He shocked me with the news that brother found my dad dead in his sleep, total surprise.
About a week later, I found out I was pregnant with my third child, my only son. My mom’s health continued to fail, and she was put in a “rehab” hospital; you know, the kind that are not actually intended to rehabilitate anyone. She would tell me and other family members that she saw my dad all the time. He stayed with her, sitting in a chair.
During this time, I gave birth to my son, who actually was born by emergency c-section with no heartbeat. I named him after my father, who I loved dearly. For 2 months he was in the NICU, and almost died. He survived multiple organ failure, and unknown lung bleed, and I finally brought him home with a feeding tube and the prognosis that his brain damage would leave him a vegetable. (Doctors don’t know everything, he seems as normal as my other 2, now.)
Anyway, I was telling my mom that I regretted that my dad never got to see and hold him, and that’s when she told me that I was wrong. She told me,”Your daddy told me that when you brought that baby home, he stayed with him and took care of him at night while you were sleeping.” That makes sense, he was an incredible sleeper.
As her illness progressed, she would tell me about seeing her father and mother, and other family members who had passed. My cousin lost a baby about six years ago, and she called me one day crying to tell me that my mom told her that grandpa was holding her baby in the chair while she was visiting.
Mom also told this same cousin, “They’re all here, they stay here all the time. Stay with me a little longer and maybe they’ll go away.”
One Sunday, my brother called me and told me to come over because mom said that she didn’t have much time left and wanted to see us. Everyone came over and spent the day with her. During this visit, I told her how I loved her and if she would promise to come back to see me, and she did. She slept for the rest of the week, and on Saturday, she died, despite the nurses saying that she didn’t display any signs of nearing the end.
Some time passed and one night I had a dream. I dreamed that I was on vacation without my family, but with strangers. The vacation house looked like a long trailer house with school bus windows. As I was looking out the “school bus” window, across the street, there was a train station. Leeroy walked out, and toward me. He was a family friend who also died a month before my dad. I expressed surprise to see him, and he said,”I’ve got your mom with me, too. He went in and brought her out. I was so happy to see her. She said,”Your daddy’s here, too.” She went back for him. Then, I said,”Dad, why don’t you ever come visit me, I miss you so much!” He replied,”It’s just so hard.” Then, I turned to my mom, and said,”There’s so much I want to talk to you about, but in these dreams, you never get enough time.” Then, she simply said,”I know.” Something else happened, but I don’t recall that part of the dream.
A couple of days later, I was talking to my uncle, a minister, and told him the dream. He said, “Don’t you remember your mom saying that she could hear the train coming for her?” I actually did not, but apparently, that Sunday, she had said that to my uncle.