Grief

I slept in the basement bedroom, and Vicky slept in her bedroom upstairs. After spending what seemed like hours of desperately trying to sleep, I heard the door bell ring and my sister getting up to answer the door. I panicked, thinking, "She shouldn’t answer the door in the middle of the night." I practically flew up the stairs trying to get there as quickly as my legs could carry me. When I got to the door, R.C.M.P. officers were walking in. Standing behind them, I could see Steve in his full survival suit carrying his fishing-line and tackle box. My heart skipped a beat. I breathed a sigh of relief, as I thought to myself, "Oh, thank goodness, he's okay." The look on his face was saying, "Boy, am I in trouble now," and I was thinking, "You've got that right." The door was promptly closed on him. I could hear the police say to Vicky, "We need someone to identify the other gentleman. Here is his photo." I refused to look at the photo, insisted that Steve was just outside the door and demanded they let him in. I heard Vicky say, "That's my brother-in-law, Steve." I protested loudly, "It can’t be, he's just outside!" I tried to push past the police, but they held me back and would not let me open the door. My life slammed into a brick wall. From that moment forward events of the night moved, as though, through dense dark fog. Words sounding deliberate and methodical; information coming slowly and painfully. Muffled rumblings gradually fading into silence, rapidly developing into my worst nightmare. My sister's friends stayed with us, trying to console us and keep us occupied with idle chatter, attempting to introduce some faction of normalcy into the room. As I sat on the living room couch in a shocked and numb state, I could clearly see the picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, where I had left it on top of the dining room cabinet. Still glowing and shimmering with a luminous light, shining eminently brighter than before, as it gently and lovingly smiled at me. It was drawing me in, wanting to console me; I understood. Steve's Spirit was letting me know he was very much alive and was there to comfort and provide me with much needed courage. I believe that knowing, was what gave me the strength to phone my children. The next morning, Vicky’s friends began dropping in to offer comforting words and condolences. One of her friends was also an old friend of mine. As he was leaving, he gently put his arms around me and held me briefly. At that very moment, I became completely overwhelmed by Steve's essence and presence, as he whispered in my ear, "I wish I could be there for you."