A tough day

Today was another funeral at St. John's of the grandchild of a large family. Great grandparents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and good friends turned up for this little 4 year old's funeral.

My heart goes out to the family of Hanna, who passed away from brain cancer.

I can just imagine the anguish and the emotional pain that they are going through right now.

I have some understanding of what they went through as my own son was hospitalized when he was about 9 or 10 with severe pains in this stomach. Sick Kids in Toronto thought it was cancer and as you can imagine, no mother or father wants to hear that.

I remember spending every noon hour and the hours after work at the hospital. Happily I worked at Queen's Park and could walk down to the hospital. My boss Wally was very supportive of me and understood if I was back a few minutes late from lunch. He could not have been kinder to me.

In my son's case, it did not turn out to be cancer and it could be cured another way.

I remember the feelings of anxiety and worry. I remember the feeling of helplessness as I had to stand by and let the medical profession take over.

I found it very difficult to see the video of Hanna's life, especially when she was in the hospital after the seizure. I noticed other people felt the same and many tears were wiped away quietly.

She was a much loved child whose loving nature touched all those she came into contact with.

It is hard to understand why a child is taken so early on in life but little Hanna had already touched so many people in her short life, so perhaps her job was done on this earth.

I totally believe that each person is here on earth with a job to do, some find it early in life, some in later years. Alas, some never seem to find it.

I do know, without any doubt in my own mind, that there is life after this life, having passed through a near death experience at age 22 and then a cardiac arrest a few years ago.

It was the most wonderful thing which could have happened to me. At age 22, I walked on the lighted path, looking down at my body as it lay on the bed with the doctor's working so hard to revive me. I remember wanting to pat them on their heads, especially the two young ones who looked so intense and I wanted to tell them that I was all right.

At that time, while walking on the lighted path, I was met with people that I knew who had already left this earth. They walked along with me. I was not alone. I heard the most wonderful music, the like of which I have never heard again. These people communicated with me, not in language, but somehow with thought and we understood each other perfectly. They were so welcoming and I felt so much love, affection and acceptance radiating from them.

We walked together until we came to a kind of lighted archway, and then I was stopped and a being of light (only way I can describe it), told me my work was not done and it was not time for me.

At that stage, all the pain returned and I found myself back in my body. An emergency operation saved my life.

That experience was the best thing that ever happened to me as it changed my whole outlook on life and made me more emphatic for others. I feel people's pain and sorrow as if it were my own.

My thoughts are with the family at this time as they stuggle to live each day without their little princess.