My son was killed by a sixteen-year-old girl who decided to run a stop sign. He was on his way home from work and the two of them collided in the intersection. My son was killed instantly. He was only thirty-nine years old. When my daughter and I received the call from his wife informing us of the accident, we were devastated and in shock. We never got to say good-bye.
Everyone loved my son. I felt that he was with God and I wondered if he was okay. My daughter cried and cried. She didn’t know if he knew how much she loved him and would miss him.
At his wake, the funeral parlor was packed with my son’s friends, coworkers, teachers, and those who’d met him and were touched by him. The funeral at the church was also packed. My nephew had stopped at the crash site before the funeral. The sun was shining and the snow had melted. He’d looked down and there was my son’s watch and cell phone. I was so excited to receive these possessions that were my son’s. My nephew had to be at the crash site at the right time. It was meant to be that I should have these.
I often called my son’s cell phone and listened to his voice. I couldn’t turn the cell phone on and thought the battery was dead. I prayed to God and my son daily to help me through the day.
Two weeks after the funeral, we were still in shock and grieving. That night, I awoke to the sound of a tune. The sound was soft and pleasant, and sounded like it was far away. I was listening to this sound as it faded and then got louder. When the sound was loud, I realized it was a cell phone, and it sounded like it was outside my house. I wondered why someone was outside my house and didn’t answer their cell phone. Then I wondered why they were outside my house, and what were they doing?
I decided to get up and look out the window. I walked into the kitchen and there was my son’s cell phone on the stand next to mine and it was lit up and flashing. I wondered if the battery had recharged. I picked up the phone, but I didn’t know which button to push. As I held the phone in my hand, it stopped flashing and I heard, “Hi, Mom. I want you to know that I’m okay. Everything is fine.” He sounded so good.
My daughter had a new baby almost two months old, so she wasn’t getting too much sleep. I decided not to call her until morning, as we both would have trouble sleeping and would probably talk all night. I did go back to bed and to sleep.
In the morning, I awoke and immediately ran to the phone to call my daughter. She listened to me and then said, “He came to me last night. He stood in the doorway of my bedroom and I was able to tell him how much I loved him and how I miss him.”
I asked, “Did he hear you?”
She replied, “Yes, I know he did. When he left, he took a piece of my heart.”
“How did he look?”
“Just great.”
In the same night, we both received a gift from God.
—J. M. H., Minneapolis
