Right By Her Side

When my mom’s lungs collapsed, her doctor said she needed to be airlifted to another hospital. She’d flown once or twice, a long time ago, with Daddy there to allay any fears.

Three men in navy jumpsuits rushed into her room, one pushing a narrow metal stretcher. “On ‘three,’” Jumpsuit One said. My brother stood next to Jumpsuit Two and signed papers. Jumpsuit Three snapped straps to hold my mom in place on the hard wooden plank. She needs something softer, I thought. That will throw her back out.

“She can’t lie flat on her back,” I whispered to no one. “She gets vertigo like that.”

The three jumpsuits whisked my mom to the landing pad. My brothers and I stood in silence in the parking lot. Red lights flashed. Blades spun. A motor hummed. And cars whizzed by on the four-lane highway, unaware of my mom’s dire condition.

While my brothers discussed the logistics of driving to the hospital where they’d taken her, I watched the professionals slide and lock the stretcher in place and climb aboard the aircraft. With a tear trickling down my cheek, I spoke into the darkness, “She’s afraid of flying.”

But then I remembered to whom I’d been talking all along. God, since Daddy is in heaven with you, please go with Mama and allay her fears.

And God did just that. Mama landed a short time later with God right by her side.