I Wish My Son Never Experinced Heaven

Seven days ago, I was driving my son, Zach, home from school when a drunk driver t-boned us. The paramedics managed to drag us out of our flipped over car. As soon as I woke back up I looked around the room for my son. I tried to get out of my bed, but a nurse rushed into the room and settled me back in. He looked at me for a second before saying, “Your son is in critical condition right now, but you need to stay on your bed for at least another day before we can let you leave your room.” I tried to argue back, but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth. The nurse left after a couple of seconds.

The rest of the day I sat on the bed and forced myself to stay strong for my son. I knew he couldn’t see me right now, but I was all he had now after my wife was found in front of the Wal-Mart parking lot. She was stabbed a total of 12 times and her purse was emptied out. They never found out who killed her. That was just 2 years ago. Zach was just 6 at the time. The day of the funeral was the hardest day of my life. I had to explain that his mother was gone. He didn’t cry. He just nodded and stared at the ground for the rest of the day. It took over a year for things to go back to some type of normality.

The thought of Zach dying did go through my mind several times, but I quickly dismissed the thought and remained hopeful. The doctor came into my room around 7 at night to run a couple of tests. I tried to ask him about my son, but he just gave me a sympathetic look before telling me that I was pretty much fine besides a couple of scrapes and bruises. I asked if I could go see my son now, but with a sigh, he said, “Harold. Let me be completely honest with you. There really isn’t much you can do right now. You can see him tomorrow after we release you, but just understand that he is a lot worse off than you. There is a chance he may not make it, but our doctors are trying their very hardest. Get some rest and make sure you mentally prepare yourself before you see your son.” He gave me a sad nod and walked out of the room.

That night I couldn't sleep. Instead, I sat on my bed and ran through every single memory I had of Zach and me. I thought of every time we sat at the kitchen table eating dinner and laughing, I thought of the times my wife, Zach, and I would sit on the sofa and watch a movie, and I thought of the times we cried together over the loss of his mother. That night was a mixture of half smiles and tears.

At 9 o’ clock, the nurse came into my room and gave me nod before unhooking every little thing that was attached to my body. 30 minutes later, I was following closely behind the nurse to where Zach was. We stopped in front of room 437. I took a deep breath before I walked through the door and saw my son’s nearly lifeless body lying on the hospital bed. Each step I took towards my son revealed more and more injuries that his small fragile body took. His right arm was rubbed absolutely raw, his left eye was slightly opened from the dent that was now on his face, and his legs and other arm were littered with randomly placed stitches. The room started to spin and I started to go limp, but a doctor grabbed me from behind and placed me on a seat. He handed me a glass of water before saying, “He seems to be a little more stable now, but these next 2 days are the most critical for him. We will have a doctor for him at all hours, and if we get any type of alert we will definitely be there for him. You can stay with him if you’d like.” I gave him a nod and told him that I was going to stay with him until he wakes up. He placed a hand on my shoulder before he walked out the room.

The next day and a half went by and absolutely nothing happened. The doctors and nurses would stop in occasionally, but they would leave right after they finished their tasks. That evening at 9:37, my son’s heart stopped and my whole world stopped. I saw doctors and nurses rushing into the room, but I was completely stuck on the chair. It took everything out of me to finally get out of my chair and rush up to my son, but one of the doctors held me back. I screamed, pushed, and sobbed during the 18 seconds my son was dead.

For the next 2 days, I stood next to my son. I didn’t sleep, eat, or drink anything. I wanted him to somehow know that I was with him. I wanted to somehow help him get out of the coma and into my arms again. At 11:14 pm my son finally opened his eyes and looked up at me. It had taken him 4 and a half days for him to get out of his coma, and the only thing I wanted to do was cry and hold him.

He gave me a small smile before he looked up and frowned. Before I could do anything, Zach went into absolute hysterics. He started off by letting out a series of screams. Screams of absolute agony. He tried ripping off his IV and everything else connected to his body, but I held his arms down as carefully as I could before calling for a doctor. It took over 3 hours for Zach to finally calm down. It was 2 in the morning by then, I was absolutely exhausted, but I walked up to him and sat down next to him while gingerly holding his hand.

I fell asleep around 5 in the morning.

I woke up to the sound of Zach’s voice. When I looked up I saw a nurse carefully feeding him. He was telling her about how we go to the park every Saturday, and proceeded to ask her if he would be able to go with me this Saturday. She gave him a smile and said, “Well, if you eat plenty of food and do everything the doctor says you might be able to go very soon. I have to go now Zach, but why don’t you talk to your dad now? It looks like he’s awake!” Zach quickly turned to me and gave me a smile before talking about how the doctor told him he was being extra good and that he deserves a new toy. I laughed and told him that once we were out I would give him any toy he wanted.

My son was physically hurt, but it seemed like he was back to normal otherwise. The next couple of days went by in a blur. Throughout the day I would talk with him, read a couple of books to him given by the nice doctor, and watched a couple of his favorite shows on the tv. I felt beyond lucky. I had my son still. My one reason to keep living.

Last night, my son started to talk about his experience and I really don’t know what the hell he went through. I was reading to him when he held up his arm up and said, “Everything became really black and then it felt like I was dreaming.” Before I could say anything back he took a deep breath and said, “I dreamed about when mommy was here. We were eating dinner, but everything was quiet. Mommy and you were talking but I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t hear myself. I started to scream and then everything went black again.” I tried to hold his hand to reassure him that he was fine now, but he pushed away and looked up at me with eyes filled with torment. His lips quivered before he continued with his experience.

“Then a bright light was all around me. I started to feel warm and happy. Really happy like when mommy was here. I tried to move, but I was floating and so I stayed still while I floated to where I was supposed to go. It got too bright so I closed my eyes till I stopped. When I opened my eyes I had to close them again because I saw the brightest light I have ever seen. It spoke to me. It said that I was dead. It told me that I was going to be here for a little while before he sent me back to you. I tried to ask him to take me back now, but it told me that I needed to stay here.”

He took a deep breath and a couple of tears fell from his face before he continued, “I started floating again and I was taken to another room, but this one was smaller. I waited for a long time, but mommy came into the room. She was happy and she gave me a hug, but then she started to scream. I tried to keep looking at her, but her a knife kept going inside of her body. She started to bleed everywhere and I got scared. I closed my eyes and looked away. She stopped screaming and I looked back at mommy. She was dying but she told me that she loved me and that she will see me again, but she told me it would be a long time.”

I gave him a smile and told him that mommy was waiting for us in a special place. That is when Zach turned to me and said, “No not us. Just me. I saw who was holding the knife. It was you. She told me you were going to another place. I’m sorry daddy, but mommy is not waiting for you. She told me that you were clever enough to get away with killing her, but you can’t escape death. Everybody dies and so will you.”

I didn’t know what to say to him.

I loved my wife and my son, but I couldn’t handle how I became the third wheel. I knew I couldn’t beat the bond between a mother and her child and I did the only thing that would allow my son to fully appreciate me as much as he could.

This morning, I went home to get my laptop and I am now back with my son and I’m writing this out to you guys. Do any of you guys have any proof of an afterlife? Did my son just have an awfully vivid dream or was what he experienced real? It seems like more of a coincidence that he would be able to place the blame on me when the police couldn’t even trace it back to me.