by Elaine Miller

Chapter 3

I had been in Iowa City a little over a week. I knew she was not ready to come out of intensive care. I had not said anything to anyone about the psychic or her predictions. I knew my ex and Jack would ridicule me. I never mentioned my premonition of the accident. I had had premonitions before when I was married and tried to get my ex not to do something and he made fun of me and was even more set to do it. It would always turn out in an unhappy way, but even so, he would never admit that premonitions were real. He prided himself on always being logical. He was also one to require proof of anything to do with psychic phenomena. He always said I was never logical.

I was highly creative and attention deficit disorder. I was very intelligent, curious, creative and talented with sewing and art. I believed in a higher power. I believed in a different plane that you could not see or feel, but that you could communicate with. I just knew. I didn’t have to have tangible proof of everything. I didn’t care to engage in useless discussions, such as your chances of being born were one and infinity. My ex and some of his cronies engaged in these discussions daily. I didn’t feel it was a mark of my intelligence. I liked the spiritual realm. I was interested in the afterlife, psychic phenomena, soul guides, and my higher power. I had always wished I could place my hands on people and heal their pain.

We sat at Jack’s eating supper the next evening and I looked around me. Brett and Jack were drinking, loudly talking and laughing. Donna and I were sitting there quietly. I suddenly felt detached. I thought I can’t stand being here another minute. I don’t belong here. I have to get out of here. I sat and contemplated what I needed to do. I had just gotten back prior to supper from intensive care. I decided I was going home. I could be there in three hours. It was only seven p.m.

I stood up from the table. I announced I was going home. I told my ex that when he decided to leave at the end of the week, he could go and bring the kids’ home from his parents. There were protests while I got ready to go. Jack talked to me as if he thought I had a mental problem, attempting to convince me to wait until morning. I threw my things in the car and told them good-bye and thanks. I was off for home. I found out later that Jack told his ex-wife that he knew I was manic-depressive. I was angry. Was it normal to be upset or pretend you were having a merry old time like my ex?

I got gas and got onto the interstate. Soon I was flying. It was a clear night and hot. I flew along faster and faster. My thoughts were a jumble. I was scared, angry and upset. I passed semis and cars. I didn’t care if I died or not. I didn’t know how I was going to face the future, a single Mom with a brain injured child and an eleven-year-old at home. I was almost to the panic stage. My windows were closed and I had the air going. I clutched the steering wheel with my foot smashed on the gas pedal and flew through the night.

I looked up at the sky and the sun was falling down to the earth. It was so beautiful. It was like the description of the night of the accident. I started crying and sobbing. I would not allow myself to cry before. I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak and helpless. I didn’t want to be ridiculed. I got started and could not stop crying. I screamed at God. I said "Why are you doing this to me? Haven’t I had enough? Am I so bad that I will never be loved or find happiness? Am I always going to find my love dying and loose everyone I love? Do I always have monumental crisis to deal with? What’s next? What am I going to do? How can I work and take care of her at the same time, support the girls and myself? What is going to happen to her? I love her. I told you when she was critical to take her if you can’t give her back to me whole."

I drove screaming and crying. I didn’t care if anyone saw me or not. I felt all-alone in the world. I had never felt like anyone really loved me. My mother was always critical of me. My Dad was there, but he was a workaholic. He said I was beautiful, but I thought he was prejudiced. I assumed my parents loved me. Then I married Brett to get away from Mom. She stifled me. I was suffocated. I went three hours away to school to get away from her.

I saw Brett in a lecture hall with two hundred students present. I watched him for weeks. He was beautiful to me. He had huge blue eyes with long fringed lashes and wavy almost blond hair. He looked like a Greek God. I was introduced and he thought I was beautiful. We dated. I got pregnant and we married. I thought his taking the initiative was a show of caring and manliness. I was eighteen. He was eighteen. Little did I know that I had jumped from the frying pan and into the fire. The initiative he displayed was little more than total self-centered behavior. I soon found out I was just as alone, fearful and unloved as before.

I continued to drive, cry and scream at God. It went on and on. Suddenly I heard a voice. I looked around me. I saw nothing but the same scenery. The sun was down further onto the horizon. The sky was wrapped in a glow of orange, pinks and violet. There were no cars beside me. They were a ways ahead or behind. It was in my head and not of my making. I had stopped crying. I was holding my breath in anticipation. I stared ahead at the highway. In a breathless moment it felt like someone had taken a lid off my head and the feeling of warmth and peace filtered slowly down my body encompassing my arms and my legs. The voice continued. He said " Everything will be all right. I will be with you. You will rehabilitate Mary. I will tell you every step of the way. You will have no problems with anyone. You will know just what to do. This is a life lesson for you to learn patience. You will doubt and be fearful many times, but I will always be there."

I drove on with my hands on the wheel. I looked down, then up. I thought I must be dreaming. I thought, no, this must have happened. I slowed to a normal rate of speed still a little over the speed limit. The feeling of peace and tranquility remained. It was a feeling of hope. My fear was gone. I mulled the words over and over in my mind. It had happened so quickly that I found it hard to believe it had really happened, but the general feelings of peace and well being persisted.

My mind flew back to the time three years previously when Daddy had been critically ill, had had surgery, was toxic and lying in intensive care. The surgeon had said he would not live until morning. He was seventy-two years old. Mom was a basket case. I was in school with preliminary courses for R.N. training. I was lying on my bed praying. I didn’t know if I would have to drop out of school due to family crisis. I had suddenly discovered that I was the "rock". Mom was helpless and could hardly function. I’d never seen her like this. I told God I didn’t really want my Dad to go yet.

I lay there contemplating the situation and asking God to please help. My usual plea to him was "what am I going to do?" I wanted to fix everything and make it all right. I hated crisis and dissention. I opened my eyes and looked up. For a moment there was a flash of light in a ball on the window shade. The window was at the back of the house where no reflections from the street could catch the shade. A voice in my head not of my making said "he will be all right this time. It is not his time to go. No one is ready for him to leave this plain." The message was over. I felt a feeling of peace and I knew he would live. I told Mom he would be all right. She was disbelieving. I couldn’t tell her of my experience with my soul guide or maybe God. I was afraid that everyone would think I had lost my mind. It was a secret for many years. I never told anyone. I never told anyone for years about my experience in the car, but I knew and I believed. Daddy lived to be ninety-four, and then everyone was ready and willing to let him go. I knew Mary would continue to live and not be retarded.