That Fateful Evening I Lost You

Many stories circulate regarding the loss of my little boy; it happens in a small town. What happened to my love that evening I will share with you. It was February 25, 2017 and Johnathan and I had just returned from a trip. He hadn’t slept the night before and he told me he wanted to go home. We drove home and stopped midway for an early lunch at a rest stop. I asked him what he wanted for lunch and he promptly pulled a Chocolate King-Kone from the freezer at the restaurant. I sat down with my pizza and he ate his cone from the bottom up. Johnathan held up his hands covered in stickiness and I knew that our next stop was the restroom. After washing our hands we headed home to Cold Brook. I remember wondering if I should stop by the new fire-station in Poland because he had such an affinity for all things fire alarms. I drove on looking back at my smiling wide-awake boy who was eagerly looking forward to going home to see his grandparents and play with his toys.

I informed Johnathan that he could play for a little while, but soon we would have to lay down for a nap because he hadn’t slept the night before. When it was time we walked upstairs and the rain had just started to fall. The blinds were open and Johnathan wanted to open the windows and listen to the rain. It was cold at that point and I told him that he could look but it was too cold to open the windows. I shut the blinds and held him in my arms until I thought he fell asleep. He got out of bed and went downstairs to play with grandma. She told me, he whispered to her and asked her to play with him because Pop Pop was sleeping in the chair. They played for some time and I was woken up to her asking me to come get Johnathan for his nap. I carried him upstairs and again let him know that it was nap-time and that mama would lay with him. I held him in my arms and put the blanket around us and we both fell asleep as soon as we laid down.

I awoke an hour later and found that the storm was getting worse outside. Thunder and lighting had accompanied the rainstorm and now snow was falling at a intrepid rate. I went downstairs to watch TV when the lights went out. It was cold and I asked Dad if we should start the generator. He said he would wait awhile to see if the lights would come back on. It was getting late and I put a candle in our room so Johnathan wouldn’t be scared when he woke up. I walked over to the bed to wake him and he didn’t stir. He was a light sleeper and I called to him again and again but he didn’t wake. I pulled the cover off of him and felt his body was cold even though he had been under a blanket. At first it didn’t translate that anything was wrong until I picked him up. I carried him downstairs calling to my mother to help me and that Johnathan was sick. We walked downstairs and laid him on the couch.

By this point my father was trying to get the generator going outside in the garage. I asked my mother to wake Johnathan up while I ran outside to get my father. The next moments are a blur to me and time means nothing throughout the rest of the evening. I remember my father starting CPR. I remember him asking Michael to call 9-1-1 on his cell phone. I remember my mother throwing a jacket on me and scooting me outside because I was inconsolable.

Volunteer EMS from Poland soon arrived and tried to bring life back to my son. I didn’t know what was happening so I got on my knees and prayed because it was the only thing I could do. I begged God to take me and bring Johnny back. I made many bargains with God that day. We made our way to the hospital after the ambulance arrived and I prayed and even had hope that he would be okay. I remember walking into the emergency room where a team of medical personal waited. I saw Johnathan lying there with all the help the world could offer but I knew that only God could help him now.

After what seemed like hours a doctor asked me if I would like them to continue. I looked at my little boy and his abdomen was swollen and the bottom of his feet were yellow and I knew that he was gone. I walked over to my son and felt his hair and kissed his forehead and said goodbye. I was able to rock my son, hold him, and sing lullabies to him one last time before he was taken away. By this time most of my extended family had arrived as well as a priest and we prayed over Johnathan and asked God to watch over our precious angel.

Author: Stacy Wurz

I am a mother fighting to ensure all of our children are safe from multiple vaccinations. Tell your doctor we're vaccinating one shot a time.

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