My husband Ollie had retired from teaching and we were making plans to travel together to Florida. Then he was terribly ill and became very weak, hardly able to speak. Weeks passed and it became clear that Ollie was near death, but I prayed day and night that he could get better. One of us was always in Ollie's hospital room--either me, or our grown children, Bruce and Karen. One day, in his broken and weak speech, Ollie told Bruce, "Go home. You should be with Gwen." Gwen was Bruce's wife. They had been married for six years and lived hundreds of miles away. Gwen was about to have a baby. We felt an extra sadness, knowing Ollie would never see his first grandchild. "I don't want to leave you, Dad," Bruce said. Ollie repeated, "You should be with Gwen." _ , Bruce left. "When the baby comes," he promised Ollie, "you will be the first to know." A few days later, around 2 p.m., Ollie awoke from a sleep. He turned and looked at me. I sat close to hear his weak words. "The baby is coming now. It's a boy," he said. For a moment his eyes were filled with tears. Then he went back to sleep again. Not long after that, Karen ran into the room. "Bruce called," she said, a smile lighting her face. "Gwen gave birth to a healthy baby boy around two o' clock." Ollie smiled; he had been the first to know. That night, Ollie died in his sleep. Why did Ollie want Bruce to be with Gwen?
Ollie thought it was too much trouble for Bruce to stay at hospital. Ollie wanted Bruce to bring the baby along as soon as it was born. Ollie didn't want his son to be absent when his baby was born. Ollie couldn't bear his son seeing him dying with a broken heart.