The Battle Draws Closer To The End
Two decades ago or longer Papa Ranger, then about 60, lay in a coma in a small hospital in a little town in rural Canada. He had contracted encephalitis. My mother sat by him. Suddenly his eyes opened. He spoke his first words. "Has my son called?" At once the door opened and the nurse stuck her head in and said to Mom and Him, "Your son is on the phone."
It was me. I had felt a sudden urge to call. Last night before I went to work, I suddenly awakened at 8:35 p.m. I lay in the dark room, suddenly alert. The phone began to ring. It was Papa Ranger. News about his great grandson of whom I've written these last days.
The news was not good. The Littlest Ranger is no longer fighting. His partially formed tiny heart beats on, but only the machine filling his lungs and letting them deflate is keeping him alive. He is totally flacid. The tests show massive brain damage. His organs are shutting down or already have. Papa had held him and marveled at his beauty and asked all the "why" questions. The medications have been stopped. Only the sound of the ventilation machine continues. His parents have the night to consider the few options left.
Only Heaven holds the answers. And soon he will be there... and suddenly he will be everything he was meant to be. Please Dear God... comfort those who hurt, dry the tears of those who weep. Please....