-- I Was There Last Night
-- Your son is here
| A nurse took the
tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.
"Your son is here," she said to the old man.
She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.
Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.
The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile.
He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.
Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.
Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.
Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.
"Who was that man?" he asked.
The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.
"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."
"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"
"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here.
When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed."
I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was Killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman's Name?
The Nurse with Tears in Her Eyes Answered, Mr. William Grey.............
The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay.
We are not human beings going through a temporary spiritual experience.
We are spiritual beings going through a temporary human experience.
This is what we are put on this earth to do anyway, right ?
This received from a friend some time ago - posted Jan 2009.
I Was There Last Night By Robert Clark
Is there a magic cutoff period when Offspring become accountable for their own Actions?
Is there a wonderful moment when Parents can become detached spectators in
The lives of their children and shrug, "It's Their life," and feel nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital Corridor waiting for doctors to put a few
Stitches in my daughter's head. I asked, "When do You stop worrying?" The nurse said,
"When they get out of the accident stage." My Dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.
When I was in my thirties , I sat on a little Chair in a classroom and heard how one of my
Children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, And was headed for a career making License plates.
As if to read my mind, a teacher Said, "Don't worry, they all go through This stage
and then you can sit back, relax and Enjoy them." My dad just smiled Faintly and said nothing.
When I was in my forties , I spent a lifetime Waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come
Home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry,
In a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be Adults." My dad just smiled faintly And said nothing.
By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being Vulnerable. I was still worrying over my Children,
but there was a new wrinkle. There Was nothing I could do about it. I Continued to anguish over their failures,
be Tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. My Dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.
My friends said that when my kids got married In Could stop worrying and lead my own Life.
I wanted to believe that, but I was Haunted by my dad's warm smile and his Occasional,
"You look pale, are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?"
Can it be that parents are sentenced to a Lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another
Handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of Human frailties and the fears of the Unknown?
Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've been
Calling for 3 days, and no one answered I was worried."
I smiled a warm smile.
The torch has been passed.
PASS IT ON TO OTHER WONDERFUL PARENTS
(And also to your children. That's the fun part )