Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can sense you there with me. At times the feeling is so real it is almost frightening. It consumes me, and I find total happiness enjoying your presence again.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you are a tiny baby and I am holding you in my arms. You are the most beautiful baby God ever created. You have huge, bright eyes, a full head of thick hair and a smile that melts my heart.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you are an adorable toddler standing behind an open cupboard door eating fistfuls of Cheerios. You are so small that all I can see is the open cupboard with two tiny red sneakers at the bottom. I can hear you crunching your Cheerios.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you are young boy riding your bike - off to meet a friend or scout out yet another garage sale. You are so anxious to find a bargain you can resell at a profit.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you are posing for prom pictures with a beautiful young girl on your arm. You are so happy, your smile and your after shave fill the room. You are handsome beyond belief. You want to share all your experiences with your family. The sharing is part of the pleasure for you.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you are in your college years. Your clothes are certainly not what I would have picked, but they are the “you” of the moment. You are enjoying every new experience that comes your way. I miss having you live at home, but I am happy that you are growing into such a wonderful, independent young man.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you are all grown up and off on your own. You are a tall, extremely attractive, confident, intelligent your man. The world is there for you to conquer. I am so proud of you and all I know you will become. I can feel your enthusiasm for life.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night reality creeps in, you are a very sick young man. You do not complain you are cheerful and even joke with the doctors and nurses. Everyone hopes you will get well quickly, but, you do not get well - you die.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I cannot understand why God has taken you before you had a chance to be all that you could be. I question a God who could be that cruel. Then, I remember that it is God who gives me the gift of all the “Sometimes, in the middle of the night” experiences that keep me going until I can be with you again.
Paula W. Hickey
Return
to Kevin's
page