Robin had prayed for my rebirth, and I didn’t know that yet. I woke up looking at my cousin John. It seemed to me we were in a formal setting - polished brown horizontal rail affixed to the wall, muted golden wallpaper, painting of a vase of flowers. I was pretty sure I was at my wake, and not really curious why. ”They killed Fritz!” I said to John. It had become our traditional greeting to one another since a cartoon movie we’d seen as kids. I don‘t remember what John said back; I’ve had a head injury.
Next I knew, I was in bed in my hospital room, with my sisters and a beautiful lady gathered round me. They were giving me a summation of what had happened. “You were at the condo at the golf course with your son John and fell and hurt your head.” I figured if that were all, I was ready to go home, since I was alert and had no pain. Donna, my oldest sister, told me it was more serious than that. ”You have a trach.” OK, so it was serious. I still wasn’t very curious about the details, but wanted to figure out, what do I do now?
I was told some more particulars. I lived at that condo where I’d fallen. the beautiful lady was my fiancée, Robin (I kind of smirked at that news as if it were impossible.). I worked as a prison doctor. I was at a place called RIC, the Rehab Institute of Chicago. I was here by virtue of some research and finagling by Donna and Robin. They were taking good care of me. The net around my bed was meant to keep me from jumping up
and walking around (I soon found a way to escape that.)
It seemed my remote memory was mostly intact. I knew Donna, her daughter Clare, and my sister Pegi. I knew my dad had died long ago. I could answer the medical questions my sister asked to test me. I recognized my uncle Vinny when he called. But when I asked where Mom, who lived with me, was, I had to be told she’d died a few months ago. And this Robin - why was she staying with me? Not that I minded; I quickly became as attached as can be, and felt very alone when she was gone for a day or two. I also wanted desperately to be with my son John again.
Robin’s prayer was answered in the affirmative. Reborn, I passed through the stages of infancy and into childhood over the next several weeks at RIC. I clung to my caregivers like they were my parents. I had to be taught to walk properly again. I was corrected several times that my shoes were not in fact “cannolis.” While my spirit was away from my body (however that works), I learned some unchanging truths. God had my back, the prayers of loved ones had kept me alive, and my lady was better than I could deserve.
My second post. Just learning the nuts n bolts a little here. I read these two articles this morning and found them interesting:
Maybe I can learn to leave shorter links.
Listening to Abp Sheen. I think he said something like, "The pity is not that there is so much suffering, but that so much suffering is wasted." He's describing the reactions of various spectators at the Crucifixion, including the Good Thief.
Very deep, Abp Sheen. Here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxU0tXGewbw&authuser=0
Also, I love Fr Goring: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tE-wz4UuvNA