For my Aunt Non
Mods, if this isn't appropriate, feel free to remove it, but I'm hoping this can touch some people here, as it did to several of my friends when I showed them.
I think I've shared this story with one person so far... but the more I think about it, the more I'd like to give as many people as possible the chance to think about it, too.
As some of you may know, I was at a memorial service last week. Although technically we aren't blood-related (my grandfather's sister on my mom's side, but he is actually my mom's stepdad), she was like a grandmother to me my whole life. Obviously her passing was incredibly emotional for our whole family, as well as the service itself. This story I want to share with you was explained to my mom after the service, while we were still in North Carolina (where she lived the last 5 years of her life).
"Aunt Non" (how she was always known to my brother and I, and even my mom) lived by herself on a small apartment in a small North Carolina town. Although she had some memory problems, she was for the most part physically well, considering her age. She got in the habit of calling my grandparents (who lived about 15 minutes away) every day, so that they could make sure she was alright. If they didn't hear from her, they tried calling her, and if there was no answer they came out for a visit. Just to make sure.
Well, that happened last Friday. When they came, they had to let themselves in, and found her crumpled on the floor. They got an ambulance their immediately, and she was rushed to the hospital.
She wasn't dead. The doctors determined she had probably suffered a brain anurism, and was in a coma at the time. Over the next 48 hours, she didn't come out of the coma. In fact, as she was hooked up to a number of machines to help maintain her health, her signs were slowly but consistently weakening.
On Sunday, a nun (that was a very close friend of hers) from the church that Aunt Non was very active in came to be with her. The machines were still giving bad news, and it didn't look like she'd make it much longer. She had obviously been fighting it, but all the same she had been weakening. The nun (unfortunately I can't seem to remember her name), as hard as it was for her, started talking to her. Keep in mind Aunt Non was still in a deep coma, and had been for about two and a half days. The nun told her that it would be alright to let go. If she did allow herself to pass, she would be with all of her sisters and brothers, her parents, many of her friends... and after two and a half days of being in a complete coma, Aunt Non reacted. She said "okay." And then she passed away.
When I was told this, I felt a shiver up my back. Now I'm really not very religious, but at the service the Priest told us that now all of us could talk with Aunt Non whenever we wanted, through prayer. For the first time in my life, I've been praying every day. I'm not so sure I believe in miracles and things of that sort... but how else could you explain this?
Aunt Non, this is my farewell to you. We all loved you so much, your love and hope touched more people than I think you could ever know. I hope that this story can touch at least one more person. I'll talk to you again soon.
I think I've shared this story with one person so far... but the more I think about it, the more I'd like to give as many people as possible the chance to think about it, too.
As some of you may know, I was at a memorial service last week. Although technically we aren't blood-related (my grandfather's sister on my mom's side, but he is actually my mom's stepdad), she was like a grandmother to me my whole life. Obviously her passing was incredibly emotional for our whole family, as well as the service itself. This story I want to share with you was explained to my mom after the service, while we were still in North Carolina (where she lived the last 5 years of her life).
"Aunt Non" (how she was always known to my brother and I, and even my mom) lived by herself on a small apartment in a small North Carolina town. Although she had some memory problems, she was for the most part physically well, considering her age. She got in the habit of calling my grandparents (who lived about 15 minutes away) every day, so that they could make sure she was alright. If they didn't hear from her, they tried calling her, and if there was no answer they came out for a visit. Just to make sure.
Well, that happened last Friday. When they came, they had to let themselves in, and found her crumpled on the floor. They got an ambulance their immediately, and she was rushed to the hospital.
She wasn't dead. The doctors determined she had probably suffered a brain anurism, and was in a coma at the time. Over the next 48 hours, she didn't come out of the coma. In fact, as she was hooked up to a number of machines to help maintain her health, her signs were slowly but consistently weakening.
On Sunday, a nun (that was a very close friend of hers) from the church that Aunt Non was very active in came to be with her. The machines were still giving bad news, and it didn't look like she'd make it much longer. She had obviously been fighting it, but all the same she had been weakening. The nun (unfortunately I can't seem to remember her name), as hard as it was for her, started talking to her. Keep in mind Aunt Non was still in a deep coma, and had been for about two and a half days. The nun told her that it would be alright to let go. If she did allow herself to pass, she would be with all of her sisters and brothers, her parents, many of her friends... and after two and a half days of being in a complete coma, Aunt Non reacted. She said "okay." And then she passed away.
When I was told this, I felt a shiver up my back. Now I'm really not very religious, but at the service the Priest told us that now all of us could talk with Aunt Non whenever we wanted, through prayer. For the first time in my life, I've been praying every day. I'm not so sure I believe in miracles and things of that sort... but how else could you explain this?
Aunt Non, this is my farewell to you. We all loved you so much, your love and hope touched more people than I think you could ever know. I hope that this story can touch at least one more person. I'll talk to you again soon.
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