For twenty-four years we had walked with Laura through this life. Now we had walked her to the very doorway connecting this world to the next. On our journey we had loved her and cared for her. As parents we had cared for her like no one else could. The physician in me knew the possible endings from the moment that we found out Stacy was carrying Laura. The mother in Stacy would nurture and laugh and cry over her. She savored her child and Laura knew it, I’m sure.
Over the years, Stacy and I shed many, many tears and cried out many times for God to heal our little girl. We had stood. We had believed. We still believed even when she went into the hospital this time so sick. Where was God when we needed him to speak into our hearts? Now that she was gone from us, would we ever know if He had been listening?
Stacy and I had already purchased three adjacent crypts about a year earlier when we first had trouble with Laura’s temperature. When she passed on, most of the major details were already done as a result.
As we were gathering pictures and items to display for her viewing at the funeral home, I found a poem that I’d written for Laura when she was only four years old. Stacy wanted it displayed with our few cherished pictures of Laura.
The funeral home secretary was reviewing the program for the viewing with Stacy. We were astonished at what Stacy found as she proofed the poem.
