Two Minutes Du Jour

MIRACLES By Kelly Puspoki

When my husband, two-year-old son and I left the hospital, I didn’t realize Dad was dying. He had cancer, but was in remission. “It’s pneumonia, he’ll be fine,” I said.

After the three-hour drive home, I took my toddler to the park nearby. Within five minutes on the swing, an indisputable message hit me. “Go back. Go back! Go back!!” Each time, more urgent.

It didn’t make any sense since we just got home. But I couldn’t shake it. And I didn’t question it.

I texted my husband, “I don’t know why, but I need to go back to the hospital.” I dropped off our boy and hit the road with another three-hour drive ahead of me. I didn’t call anyone. I didn’t listen to music. I didn’t even think. I just drove.

When I arrived, I ran as fast as I could, opened the door, pushed the elevator button repeatedly and jumped in. Right as my elevator opened to the third floor, he walked out of the one right across from me.

I dropped to my knees.

It was my brother wearing the orange suit and handcuffs with a cop by his side.

We hadn’t seen him for three years, and spending time with him again was one of Dad’s dying wishes. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I harbored so much anger over the years.

We walked into Dad’s room, arms linked, and for the next hour, I watched and listened in awe.

It was beautiful. Magical. Out of this world and beyond words. I couldn’t remember the last time Dad had this much energy, beaming from ear to ear. Two souls reunited, they talked and laughed with Dad interjecting, “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re really here!”

The “prodigal son” had returned. I cried happy tears.

The visit flew by and soon enough we heard a knock. Time stopped. They hugged, somehow knowing it was their last.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, son.”

The cop opened the door and escorted my brother out.

That was the last time Dad spoke. He died two days later, holding my hand.

Almost three months after that, my brother was released from prison and so was I. My anger never returned.

Today, my brother is one of my favorite people and our bond has grown over the past 17 years. We never run out of words and we talk about anything and everything. Our connection is unique, our conversations deep, and they end the same way every time.

“I love you, brother.”

“I love you, sister.”

How I can’t help but think how blessed am I to have heard the voice of God.

Links Du Jour

Tips for Coping When a Parent or Other Loved One Is Dying – Very Well Health

How To Let Go of Lingering Resentment and Achieve Peace of Mind, According to Mental-Health Experts – Well & Good

Rock Rules is a program created by Lori Syverson to bring peace to relationship issues at end of life. Learn more in her recent live storytelling session with The Moth.

StoryCorps aims to illuminate the humanity in us all, one unscripted conversation at a time. Since 2003, nearly 700,000 people have had meaningful conversations about their lives, and their recordings are collected in the U.S. Library of Congress and online.