“Stop mom, don’t do it. There’s
a car beside us!” I was about to change lanes on a busy highway when my son
called out the warning. I looked over my left shoulder and sure enough, in my
blind spot, a vehicle already held the space I had intended to move into. I was
grateful for his awareness that day. My son, Jason, wasn’t one to chat a lot
when we were driving so when he did speak, it was easily noticed.
As I look back over Jason’s formative years I find
myself smiling. He had an innate understanding of humans and he constantly
amazed me with his sense of timing to deliver the right words at just the right
time. His sisters were 7 and 12 years old when he arrived on the scene and I
thought I was an old hand at child rearing, but Jason came with a guarantee, to
teach his mother some new tricks.
During those growing up years he seemed to come up
with lines that were show-stoppers. I recall the afternoon Jason and his
girlfriend sat me down to inform me of their decision regarding sex. “Regarding
sex mom, well we’ve decided we’re waiting until after we’re married.”
Another memorable message he shared one day was
conveyed without a word. That day, he’d been bouncing his soccer ball off the
walls and the neighbor had already mentioned it was irritating her. Despite my
earlier request to stop, he was back at it again; maybe he wanted to see how far
he could push. I blew up and started shouting at him. He grinned at me, which
further fueled my anger. Then he walked over and picked me up. My skinny kid was
now a dashing 6-foot 2-inches tall, muscular, athlete. He had a winning smile
and I think God sent him with an extra helping of human kindness, although I
don’t think he was practicing it on me that day. I couldn’t escape his embrace,
and exasperated I tried to continue my lecture. Suddenly I had a “Kodak” moment
as I pondered this question, “What happens to anger as it collides with the
human touch?” All my anger evaporated nestled there in his arms where I could
feel his love and appreciate his goofy sense of humor.
Then there was the yellow Hoodie” incident. I was
definitely on the receiving end of that lesson too.
I’d been given a yellow sweatshirt (referred to as a
hoodie) by the staff at Camille School. This was the Catholic Separate school
across the street from the public school, Lindsay Thurber, attended by Jason.
I’d taught some dance classes for the Catholic school and the new jacket was
their thank you gift.
As soon as Jason saw the hoodie, he said, “I hope
you’re not planning on wearing that mom!” Did I mention that it featured the
rival school’s football team name and logo? I responded with, “I don’t know why
not, it’s new and nice looking.”
A few days later I arrived home to find Jason wearing
the hoodie. I was surprised and asked, “Surely you didn’t wear that to school
today, did you?” “Yes,” he replied, “I did.”
“Oh my goodness,” I said, “What happened?”
“”Well, “ he responded calmly, “they threw me up
against the lockers and called me names.”
I commented, “Oh Jason, I guess you won’t be doing
that again!” “Yes I will” he promised. “Why not mom, it builds character!”
It was a day like any other, the day that Jason was to
compete in a track and field competition. Before leaving for the meet he hugged
me. It was to be our last hug. Just an hour later, he lost control of his car
and within minutes he was dead.
After his death trying to find balance, meaning and
comfort was a slow, arduous and complex process. Five years passed. Out of the
blue one day, the pain of missing my son was suddenly so sharp I broke down,
sobbing. Between huge gulps I spoke to God in prayer, begging Him to give me a
dream where I could once more see my tall, beautiful, blond-haired son. I
pleaded. I begged. I cried. “It is very easy for you God. This is so simple.
Please, please give me this dream. I miss him so much. All I ask for is a hug.
That’s easy for you, just one hug in a dream.” I cried on and begged as if my
life depended upon this one thing. In those five years since his death I had
dreams every night, but not once was Jason in any dream. I ached with a mother’s
heart, yearning to see my son, to hold him, if only in a dream.
God answered my prayers, I indeed got my dream.
Strangely though in my dream, Jason was much younger – he might have been seven
years old. In the dream I was chastising him for something he had done. I told
him, ”Don’t do that. Do you want to get killed?”
He looked at me, then Jason spoke the most compelling
words he ever uttered, “But mom, death isn’t forever.”
I awoke and immediately felt upset I’d not received my
hug. Then as I became more fully awake, it dawned on me I’d just been given
something far better. My son had given me another significant one-liner, in a
unique way. A line that filled me with hope and reassurance for tomorrow, a line
that left me feeling more than hugged – “Death Isn’t forever.”
Ellie Braun-Haley
shaley@telusplanet.net
Ellie is the author of four books and is working on
her fifth. She has short stories published in Chicken Soup for the Soul,
Heartwarmers of Spirit and 2theHeart and has been published in a wide variety of
s-zines.
The Illustrator: This daily newsletter is dedicated to encouraging
everyone to look towards Jesus as the source of all the solutions to our
problems. It contains a daily inspirational story, a Bible verse and encouraging
messages. HTML and plain text versions available.
The Nugget: Published three times a week, this newsletter features inspirational devotionals and mini-sermons dedicated to drawing mankind closer to each other and to Christ.