comfort. At first, they blamed the pregnancy, but the doctors assured them that the weak vessel Kim had in her stomach would have ruptured sooner or later with or without a baby. It was little consolation to them but they too turned their minds and prayer to the infant girl who was fighting for the life her mother so longed to give her.
Kim’s funeral came and went. Finally even Kim’s and his parents had to return to their respective homes and lives, leaving Dwight to bring home a now healthy four-week-old baby girl.
He named her Gem. It was the name Kim was adamant about, be it boy or girl. He placed her in an all pink and white crib, sat in the rocking chair Kim so carefully picked out and he cried.
When there were no more tears to come, no more questions, nothing more than resignation that the rest of this life would be without Kim, he reinforced his belief that God was not an unjust God. He knew that she lived on in God’s heavenly dimension. He also knew that knowing this would not soften his grief, but it would get him through it and help him be strong for his baby girl.
It was that first night the baby was home that he dream ed about Kim. She stood by his bed looking so full of love she glowed all around her body. Behind her, a string of stars that so amazed him that he rose from where he lay and followed as Kim went from their room to the room where little Gem lay sleeping soundly. She turned to look at him and he whispered,
“I will always love you Kim and I know I will see you soon.”
She smiled as she stepped backwards no more than three steps and it was as if she stepped through a wall that was not there and was gone from his sight. However, the star lights she left behind formed into the one word. Ditto. He watched, not taking his eyes off them until the last one disappeared. How long that may have been, he had no idea, and after they were all gone, he sat in the rocking chair where he awoke the next morning and knew her visit was no dream. Kim had come to say good-bye and give him the closure of which her death had cheated him of.
THREE
“ G o away! Leave me alone!” The moans were followed by, “Jesus! Help me please, Jesus!”
The words woke the woman from the nightmare she was having. Her short curly hair was clinging to her forehead and neck, wet with perspiration. Her mouth was dry. Reaching for the lamp, relief flooded her being as light flooded the room. Emptying a glass of water that was on the nightstand, she still needed more. Shaking from the horror of the nightmare, she took the glass into the kitchen, filled it, and drank thirstily .
Her thirst satisfied, she went back into her bedroom and climbed under the covers leaving on the lamp. Each time the nightmare came, it was the same, and she would wake only when she called the name of Jesus out loud. This did not make sense as she quit believing in Him about the time she realized Santa Claus did not exist. She remembered th e time well for it was the year she started school . The same year Bea had … died. Clenching her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut as if she could force old memories not to come. They came anyway, cruel and treacherous, taunting her, daring her to remember. The same old insecurities always followed the nightmares .
She lay awake until dawn terrified of the thing that always tried to kill her in the dream . A Psychotherapist for disturbed adolescents, she often explained away monsters in the night for them , but her own she could not. Her name was Honey and her life was good. It was not always so, for she spent her childhood in a