One night, about 23 years ago, [wow, has it been that long?!]
Robert and I got home late from work and started to get something to eat when the phone rang. Very unusual for us, so when I picked up the receiver, I was expecting something important, but not to the impending degree about to unfold. "Start praying!" my mom breathlessly panted in my ear, then she quickly continued with, "Tim has stopped breathing, we are taking him to the hospital!" Panic set in. Tim was the second son, third in line of the Rivas children, I say "was" because he is now in heaven. Yes dear reader, the unthinkable had suddenly come upon us. How did this happen? One minute I was at home with my man, about to have a snack after a long hard day, then WHAMO! -- the next thing I knew I spent a long agonizing ride to the hospital. I was praying--no, it was more like commanding and demanding that Tim be alright. Once we got there I no more than sat down when my sobbing baby brother came through a door and choked, "He's gone!" I screamed, "No!" and bolted passed him through the door. There he was, my brother, lying blue and lifeless on a gurney with tubes sticking out of him, with my mother standing next to him crying, and ringing her hands, looking like a lost child. In an instant I decide that I never ever wanted to see that sight ever again. It is just not right. This is not what is supposed to happen. Everyone knows that parents are supposed to die before their children, right? If only that were always the case, dear reader.
Robert and I got home late from work and started to get something to eat when the phone rang. Very unusual for us, so when I picked up the receiver, I was expecting something important, but not to the impending degree about to unfold. "Start praying!" my mom breathlessly panted in my ear, then she quickly continued with, "Tim has stopped breathing, we are taking him to the hospital!" Panic set in. Tim was the second son, third in line of the Rivas children, I say "was" because he is now in heaven. Yes dear reader, the unthinkable had suddenly come upon us. How did this happen? One minute I was at home with my man, about to have a snack after a long hard day, then WHAMO! -- the next thing I knew I spent a long agonizing ride to the hospital. I was praying--no, it was more like commanding and demanding that Tim be alright. Once we got there I no more than sat down when my sobbing baby brother came through a door and choked, "He's gone!" I screamed, "No!" and bolted passed him through the door. There he was, my brother, lying blue and lifeless on a gurney with tubes sticking out of him, with my mother standing next to him crying, and ringing her hands, looking like a lost child. In an instant I decide that I never ever wanted to see that sight ever again. It is just not right. This is not what is supposed to happen. Everyone knows that parents are supposed to die before their children, right? If only that were always the case, dear reader.
I will not go into every detail of what happened on that horrific night and the aftermath that followed, it is still amazingly hard for me to recount, even now tears are streaming down my cheeks as I type this. But what I will share is this. After that horrific event, I started to suffer from torturous dreams, dreams that left me sobbing in the middle of the night. Nagging questions of Tim's spiritual state before he died were haunting me. Then my sister Lauri (Tim's "twin") was given a blessed mercy, a wonderful dream. Allow me to interject something here really quickly. We Rivas children are sort of pared off. We each have a twin of sorts. My older brother and I are tall, with dark eyes, and hair and have light skin. Tim and Lauri are of medium build, light hair and skin with hazel eyes. Teresa and Eric are tall, have dark, eyes, hair and skin. Anyway, Lauri shared with me that she was allowed to spend some time with Tim, her "twin." She couldn't say for sure where they were, she just assumed it was in heaven. She didn't go into details, and he didn't have any special "revelations' for her from God's throne either. They just hung out and she assured me that he was alright. After that, all my horrific nightmares ceased. I clung to the hope of that dream, and I still do. I realize that once a person dies, we aren't allowed to communicate with them, but my sister didn't seek a medium, or even ask for this dream, it came to her unsolicited. She hasn't written a best selling book about her dream, so all of this makes me believe that God, in his mercy, gave her and us peace of mind.