Send Me A Sign

July 8, 2008
I sadly walked down the road in tears. My husband was dead. There had been a drunk-driving incident and my husband had been in it. And I had thanked the Lord that my husband hadn’t been the drunkard. Now I’m left alone with my two kids and another one already on the way.

What am I going to do? I thought sadly. I can’t raise this baby by myself when I already have two kids to handle.

Why? Why did God have to take my husband when I was already 6 months pregnant with my husband’s baby? When I got home, I told little Lewis and Sally about what happened to their daddy. Mom came the minute she heard my husband was dead. While she cared for my kids, I went into my room and shut myself in, taking a vow to not eat or sleep, until I was given a sign or a hint about what I should do with my baby.

I kneel in front of my bed, bow my head, and place my hands together in the position to pray. Pastor Victor will be chanting Psalm 23 when he will officiate over my husband’s funeral tomorrow. I mentally curse the drunk driver for killing my husband, when I needed him the most.

I shut my eyes and began praying.

“Jack,” I began praying. “If you can hear me, I just want to say how much I love you. I don’t know what to do with the baby, now that my second trimester is already finished and I’m about to enter my third trimester. Send me a sign about what I should do.”

There was no response and I sigh and leave my room. I’ll leave that for him and God to decide.

The next morning, it is down pouring, just to match my mood, even on the day of my husband’s funeral. My family tries to comfort me, as I cry hysterically, knowing my husband will never come back. Once the funeral is finished and I place the bouquet of bluebells and campanula on his grave (bluebells and campanula have been and always will be his favorite type of flowers), I silently escort Lewis and Sally to the station wagon. Sally has already fallen asleep, as I silently carry her to the car and strap into her booster seat. I smile fondly as I recall what Sally had asked me, as my husband’s casket was lowered into the ground.

“Mama? Won’t Daddy be lonely down there with no one to be with him?” asked Sally.

“No, Sally,” I responded, as tears fell down my cheeks. “He’ll be up in the sky to watch over you, me, and our whole family. He’ll be with God and all the other angels.”

As I sit in the car and start it up, something catches my eye. There’s a little note there. I open it up and skim the contents.
If anything happens to me, I want you to take care of the new baby, with our in-laws. We need to learn to let go of the past and keep moving forward. Know that I will always be with you, no matter what.
Your loving and devoted husband,

I instant knew as I read the letter that no matter what happened to him, he would want me to keep the baby, instead of give it up for adoption.

“I love you, Jack,” I whispered, silently, as I back the car out of the church and drive it back to the little mansion that sits upon a hill that gives us a good view of the countryside, the perfect place where we raised our kids. “And I always will.”

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback