HE YEAR 2002 began with Mom undergoing a total knee replacement. Dad was by her side every day, while secretly enduring worsening chest pains. Mom was released from the hospital on a Wednesday, and Dad was admitted the following Monday. Tests confirmed a 95 to 99 percent blockage of four major heart vessels. Dad knew he could no longer continue in this condition. His options were surgery, medicine, and hope for the best, or do nothing and risk the possibility of dying from a massive heart attack.

We knew Dad’s surgery would be risky, but with surgery, he might be able to take Mom fishing, ride his horse again and perhaps live to see the birthday present I had given him the year before. For Dad’s birthday in 2001, I had his horse bred, and the colt was due in June of 2002. Dad would take a chance on the surgery.

At some point, either during or after the surgery, Dad had a stroke, paralyzing his right side. Although he began to move his right hand and arm at times and had precious few moments when he could gesture in some way to let us know that he loved us, there was still one obstacle he could not overcome. He couldn’t breathe on his own. Knowing Dad would never want to be machine-bound, we disconnected him from life support. Surrounded by God, family and friends, my Dad went to Heaven to suffer no more.

There were really two miracles in this story. During the time Dad was ill, we prayed and prayed for a miracle. We received a miracle; it just wasn’t the one we wanted at that time. The miracle was that Dad didn’t have a heart attack while Mom was in the hospital. God let us keep him long enough for her to get well.

Dad never did get to see the birth of the colt I had given him the year before for his birthday. It wasn’t due until June, and Dad passed away May 3. However, on May 15, the date of Mom and Dad’s 53rd wedding anniversary, we awoke to find a new addition to the pasture—the colt was born more than two weeks early. We knew Dad had sent this beautiful little colt from Heaven to remind us of his love for us and to make the tough days bearable. Our little “miracle’s” name is Andy… short for “anniversary day.”

Becca Berry
radiological technologist
CHRISTUS St. Michael Health System
Texarkana, Texas