posted on Sep, 17 2005 @ 11:51 AM
by Alexandra Spears
Adam Freemont sat next to the hospital bed, his hands clutching the rail, his head resting on his hands. His thoughts went back and forth: one
minute he was wondering if he'd somehow offended God; the next minute he reminded himself that trials were part of Christian life.
He raised his head. Why this trial?
In the bed lay his ten-year-old daughter Katherine. Little Katie had caught something very much like the flu...yet it wasn't the flu, and it was a
lot worse. The child was so pale, the only color, it seemed, being her beautiful strawberry-blond hair. Her blue eyes were closed, and it was
doubtful that she'd ever open them again.
Across the bed, Adam's wife Tina sat holding Katie's hand--the hand that didn't have the IV tube in it. Tina looked up at the monitor. "Adam,
it's slowing down," she said in a hoarse whisper, tears coursing down her cheeks.
Katie's parents watched, transfixed, as the little blips slowed down and eventually became a flat line. A long beep sounded.
"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Freemont, Katherine is gone," said the somber-faced doctor who had been standing there.
Adam and Tina got up, barely taking their eyes off their dead daughter. Tina was hunched over, her hands over her face, sobbing, her red hair hiding
the sides of her face like curtains. Adam gently led her out of the ICU room. He had to be strong for her.
Adam looked up and saw his twin sister, Adora Hawkins, with the pastor of their church. "Adora...your niece is gone," he managed to croak.
Adora hugged her brother and sister-in-law. "Katie is in Heaven now, Adam," Adora said. "She's at peace."
"I know," Adam whispered.
"You have to forgive them, Adam, Tina," Pastor Worthington said quietly.
"I need to be alone for a few minutes," Adam murmured. "Keep Tina company, would you?"
"Of course," said Adora.
Adam walked down the hospital corridors and went outside. There was a bench to one side of the doors, and he sat on it and looked up.
A plane was flying in the sky, and what looked like smoke trailed behind it. There seemed to be a grid that was being formed, as if some skywriter
was wanting to play tic-tac-toe. He wondered if the pilot up there knew about the tragedy he'd helped bring about--or if the pilot even cared.
[edit on 9/17/2005 by Amethyst]