By Kay Baluta
VA Medical Center — Wilkes-Barre, PA
I didn’t know he was dying as I held him in my arms.
His eyes were closed and he repeated over and over, “Ma,
what color it is?” Not knowing what he meant I simply
replied, “I don’t know Mike. I don’t know.” He opened his
eyes and they rolled to the back of his head. My son Mike
had died in my arms.
To this day, those mystifying words ring in my ears.
Was the light leading him to heaven or was it God himself
coming to take my boy home?
Mike left this earth after his wife left him for her boss,
a psychiatrist. She was also one of his patients and suffered
from extreme anxiety. Then, Mike overdosed on
the pain medication he was taking for a herniated disc.
He also drank and drank himself to death. He gave up; he
just couldn’t cope. Ironically, his ex-wife died the same
way with a broken heart at the same age Mike was when
he died. Now they are together forever soaring in the
Mike’s death broke my heart and I sigh with every
breath. Although, it won’t be long until I see my precious
son again. At the age of 90, I’m on my way out. I only hope
Mike hears me when I call his name so we can meet, allowing
our souls to float together in the heavenly skies. ■
Typist: Amie Dorney