The last couple of weeks I’ve had some Facebook memories that have come up. They are memories of that time my stepson got sick. He described it as a horrible mutant disease that he didn’t wish on anybody. He then landed in the hospital. His oxygen level dropped and they had to immediately put him on a ventilator. He was in ICU and in a coma for 11 days. I was going out of my mind. Was he going to be okay? I began asking my family and friends on Facebook and off to pray for him. Every couple of days I would update everyone. It was one of the hardest times in my life. That was 2018. He got sick with pneumonia and the flu. But slowly, he recovered. During this time we found out he had an issue with his heart.

Fast forward to 2021, he contracts COVID and it seems that 2018 is repeating itself. ICU, vent, coma. Before he was in the coma, we were communicating through texts. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t let anyone in and I just had my entire basement flooded for the second time in a matter of weeks. The second time it was Hurricane Ida. It wiped out my entire basement. It was such a horrible time, but he was texting me. He said he was feeling better. I didn’t get to see him until the day before he passed. I feel so guilty that I didn’t go to see him sooner. That I didn’t go before he went into a coma. Trying to deal with everything going on at home and the fact that he was texting me made me believe that he was going to be okay. He survived in 2018, he was going to survive in 2021, right? What was I thinking?

Although I’m thankful that I got to see him and talk to him and pray over him (I didn’t get that chance with my brother in 2020), I will never stop feeling guilty. Those memories will not only be forever on FB, but will forever be etched in my mind and in my heart. I’m so sorry, Al.