Death is the door to heaven and someday we will be there with those who have gone before us.
- Phyllis Hobe, writer
Several years ago, we had in our care three children from the same family, all of whom had the same neuromuscular degenerative disease. For parents to discover, after giving birth to three children, that all had the same disease was more than the heart could comprehend.
Yet the parents of these children cared for them in a way that was deeply moving. All of the medical professionals caring for their children were touched by the dedication and love their parents exhibited, selflessly being on call for each and every need, 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
The oldest child died first, and the parents, siblings and all those involved in their care were devastated. But the way he died and the things he said held so much meaning later on.
He was admitted into the hospital for care and although he did not appear to be close to death, he suddenly began to rapidly decline. It became evident that his time was near and that he was dying. His dad was holding the oxygen mask close to his face in order to help him breath. Pushing his hand away, his son said to him, “Don’t hold me, Dad; you don’t understand, I’m already walking. If you could only see what I see ...” With that, he died.
Two other children were to die, much too soon after the older one went on to heaven. Did the older child pave the way for the younger ones not to be afraid when their time came? Their brother was already walking in heaven, after all; he had told them so before dying.