Our Greatest Gift
The sirens blared as the ambulance crew worked their
way through the congested traffic. Megan Watson looked helplessly as
the paramedic worked on her seven-year-old daughter. When all hope was
lost of reviving her, Megan let out an anguished cry. She sobbed
uncontrollably as she held her daughter Morgan’s lifeless body. The
paramedic tried in vain to console her raw emotion and gut-wrenching
pain.
It had only been three months since she lost her husband to cancer
and two weeks since her mother passed away. She felt that Morgan was all
that she had left in the world and her reason for living.
They had listened somberly as the Priest read the prayers at
the graveside. Her mother’s casket was slowly being lowered into the
ground. The seven-year-old girl grasped her Mother’s arm as the Priest
slowly walked toward them, “She is with Jesus, now,” he said, but his
religious platitudes rang hollow for the woman who just buried her
mother. The Priest’s words and manner seemed somewhat rehearsed for
Megan Watson.
She tried desperately to hold back her tears, “Don’t cry, Mommy,” her daughter whispered.
Her family, friends, and neighbors walked stoically by her side
as they turned from the graveside. They then quickly gathered at
Megan’s home and spoke openly about her Mother. They shared food with
one another it was their way of showing that they truly care for each
other.
They shared stories as well about the old neighborhood were
Megan and her friends grew up. She is one of the few that stayed behind
in her hometown. Most of her friends after graduating high school and
college left for better opportunities and a better life. They knew it
was a rough year for Megan and her daughter, Morgan.
That same year Megan’s husband died of lung-cancer, and the
merging of the two local schools left her unemployed. Now the death of
her mother only added to the fact that life was beating her down. She
drew on every fiber of strength though, to remain strong for her
daughter. She wanted desperately for Morgan to have a better life and
future.
“Remember old Mr. Pompasko,” Megan’s cousin Fred asked in
Megan’s livingroom, “He taught Ninth grade English, whatever happened to
him.”
“He retired long ago,” said Megan, “I remember the fun we had.
The tricks we played on him. Remember when we glued his chalk to the
chalkboard?”
“Boy did he get mad,” said another cousin, “I was too scared to laugh after that look he gave me.”
“Everything was so different then, the whole town is different now,” said Fred, “It sure changed from when we were kids.”
“I know,” said one of Megan’s neighbors, “this town is going downhill really fast.”
“I would give anything to move from here,” Megan said, “I want my Morgan to have better opportunities.”
Megan and the others continued to reminisce and laugh about
their childhood experiences. The conversations stirred up deep feelings
and emotions. Megan’s feelings welled up to the surface and she was
unable to hold back her tears. She began to tell them stories about her
father who immigrated to America from Italy. Like most of the immigrants
in their hometown, they’d come there to work deep in the coal mines.
But her father later opened a shoe repair shop in the town. When Megan’s
Mother died the coal, mines were closed for twenty some years and their
hometown has been on a continuous decline.
The stories stirred up some of her earliest memories as well.
She told them how her father would sing songs to her in Italian when she
was her daughter Morgan’s age. One song was of an Angel watching over a
young orphan child. He sang the songs with such passion, love, and
warmth. She still remembers how he would hold her in his arms as he
sang. She would try and sing along with him. It was her father’s way of
putting her to bed. The memories brought her both comfort and pain
though, because her father passed away when she was only
seven-years-old.
His body had been laid out in the living room and she could
remember family and friends dressed in their Sunday bests coming by her
home to pay their last respects. She too had grasped her mother’s arm at
the cemetery the day her Father was buried.
At the age of seven she tried desperately to write the words of
the songs her father sang to her. The harder the little girl tried the
more the tears flowed. Her mother held the grieving child in her arms.
She told Megan, “Your father will always sing to you,” as she wiped the
tears from Megan’s face. “Your father’s love will always be with you,”
her mother told her once again. While holding young Megan with all of
her might, “his love will always be sung to you, you will see,” said her
Mother with certainty, “Like the Angels in his songs, he is with you.”
Young Megan with all of her might believed, in her Mother’s
words. The thought of her Father watching over her like an Angel brought
her great comfort.
A few days after her mother’s funeral, she moved into her
Mother’s home. The house brought back so many recollections. They were
memories of relatives and her Mother’s friends that have also passed
away over the years. The memories came with each new discovery of old
postcards, photos, and old letters from bygone days. Megan was an only
child and the thought of not being able to talk to her mother weighed
heavily on her.
It was just a few days after she moved back to her mother’s
home that she enrolled her daughter in her new school. She was very much
concerned about how Morgan was handling the change. Morgan’s father no
longer in the picture only compounded the feeling of abandonment. She
felt that she and Morgan were now alone in the world.
Megan’s, mother unlike her father was of Irish descent and
Megan always enjoyed telling her daughter the story of how Megan’s
parents met. “Grandma was racing to get to a Job interview and broke the
heel off of her shoe,” she told her daughter.
Morgan began to laugh even though she heard the story many
times before. Morgan was looking at an old photo of her grandfather in
the shoe repair shop as she listened to her mother tell the story.
“Grandma ran into Grandpa’s shoe repair shop and yelled, 'fix
this,' holding her shoe in her outstretched hand,” she told her daughter
laughing.
“When Grandpa was fixing your Grandma’s shoe, she kept saying
to him, 'will you hurry up?' Grandma was in such a hurry she ran out of
his shop without paying him." She went on, keeping her daughter
laughing, "He eventually tracked your Grandma down a few days later and
asked her in broken English, 'you get Job?'”
Megan’s daughter once again laughed at her mother imitating Grandpa.
“When your Grandma said, 'yes', Grandpa said to her, 'good you
can pay now.' Grandma and Grandpa got married a few months later,” she
told her daughter.
Megan and her daughter looked at old photographs of Great Aunts
and Uncles who had passed away. “I was your age when Grandpa died,”
she told Morgan.
She told her daughter, like many times before, how a customer
came to their home to tell Megan’s Mother about finding Morgan’s grandpa
lying on the floor in his shop. Megan’s father died of a sudden and
unforeseen heart-attack.
“After Grandpa died, Grandma worked as a secretary. Grandma
worked at the school where you go to school now. She worked there when I
was a little girl,” Megan told her daughter.
Megan’s earliest memories were of her Father telling her
stories that made her laugh. “Your Grandfather was such a great
storyteller,” she said, “That was his way of bringing Joy and happiness
to people.”
Megan looked at pictures of herself and her husband and
thought, “they were such happy times.” They came across baby pictures of
Morgan with her father. Megan tried to hold back her tears as she
remembered the love her husband had for her and her daughter.
Megan’s mother had a large pool in the backyard which Morgan
loved to jump into, and they came across pictures that were taken of her
in the pool. The pictures were taken when Megan’s husband was strong
and vibrant before the cancer took his life.
Prior to her daughter’s accident, Megan had been putting her
mother’s things together in boxes. Morgan was looking at her
grandmothers’ old pictures. She was a curious child and she kept
running over to her mother with each picture, “who is that, mommy?”
Megan tried to hold back her tears as she looked at the old photographs
of her family.
“Are we going to move in here now, mommy?” Megan’s daughter asked as they were looking through the old photograph album.
It was a few days after packing her mother's belongings that
Megan decided to move into her mother's home. The home was close to her
daughters’ new school and Morgan could walk the four blocks rather than
riding on a bus. She also considered the fact that she was no longer
employed and living there would make it a little easier on her
financially.
After she settled into her mother’s home, she placed her
daughter back in school. Megan was worried about how her daughter was
handling all the changes in her life, such as her father’s death, the
death of her grandmother and the move into her grandmother’s home. She
was concerned about how her daughter was handling the stress, so Megan
decided to visit her daughter’s school and talk to her teacher, Miss
Crone.
“Your daughter never arrived at the school this morning,” Miss Crone told her.
Megan became extremely concerned and went back home. She
searched the house and the backyard. What she found changed her forever.
Her daughter was face-down in the pool. Frantic and panic-stricken
Megan pulled her out. She rapidly dialed the emergency number on her
kitchen phone and began CPR. The Paramedics soon arrived and took over.
Megan walked into the hospital with the help of one of the
paramedics. She was pale and weak and needed help walking. She was grief
stricken and in shock as her world spiraled out of control. A
paramedic sat her down in the Hospital Emergency room and brought her a
cup of coffee.
While little Morgan was being wheeled into the Hospital a
paramedic noticed something unusual. What he saw was a small tear
rolling down the little girl’s cheek. He quickly ran and got one of the
Emergency Room Doctors. “We got a pulse,” came a loud and thundering
voice from inside the Emergency room.
Megan held her daughter's hand all night and into the next day
as she sat in a chair next to her daughter’s bed. Her daughter slowly
opened her eyes, “I am really sore, mommy,” she said.
Megan tried in vain to hold back her emotions. She began to cry
but this time they were tears of Joy. Prior to her daughter’s
accident, Megan was putting her mother’s things together in boxes.
Morgan was looking at her grandmothers’ old pictures. She was a curious
child and she kept running over to her mother with each picture, “who
is that, mommy?” Megan had tried to hold back her tears as she looked
at the old photographs of her family, but answered lovingly each
question.
“I love you, Mommy, very much so, but I didn’t want to come back,” she told her mother.
“What do you mean, sweetie?” Megan asked.
“She was radiant,” she said.
“Who was radiant?” Megan asked.
“I can’t explain it, Mommy, it was so wonderful, so nice, I
love you so much, but I didn’t want to come back,” she told her Mother
once again, “she was so, so radiant, so beautiful, so bright, and warm.”
“Was she an Angel?” Megan asked her
“I don’t know, I can’t explain it, I just felt good, protected, and loved,” she said.
“What did she say to you?” Megan asked her
“She didn’t talk to me like we are talking. I just understood without talking,” she said.
Little Morgan did not have the words or the means to explain to
her Mother what she experienced. Her soul at a point in time was
immersed in altruistic love. She was given an understanding of love in
its purest form.
“What do you understand, Morgan?” Megan asked her
“Some people when they die want to remain behind, they are like
people, but not everyone can see them or hear them. They are connected
to maybe their home or Job or people. They don’t want to leave.” Morgan
said.
“Did you see anyone?” Megan asked
“No, but I will,” Morgan told her Mother with a sense of certainty.
Morgan’s experience opened her up. It changed her in a way that she could not adequately explain in words.
“What do you mean, sweetie? What will you see?” Megan asked her
“Well it is a gift, a great gift, a gift that needs to be
shared. That is how I understand it. What I understand is that gifts are
only gifts when they are shared and freely given,” Morgan said. “My
experience, and understanding, is a gift for others. It needs to be
shared but not in words - just freely given. It is not a gift, if we do
not freely express it to others. I can’t explain it in words, Mommy, I
just understand it inside,” she told her Mother.
“I do not understand, honey, but in time perhaps I will,” Megan told her daughter.
“We all have that gift within us, but we never reveal it
because we do not know it is there. I saw our greatest gift, Mommy, and I
must share it now. That is what I understand now, Mommy,” said Morgan.
Megan and her daughter walked out of the Hospital a few days
later. “Well, sweetie, we need to call a cab. Our car is at home.”
Megan said.
Morgan turned to Megan, “I’m sorry, Mommy, I didn’t mean to
make you cry. I jumped in the pool because I felt Daddy there with me. I
don’t know what happened after that I must have bumped my head.”
“Don’t ever jump in the pool without me being there. You got
that, young lady?” Megan said to her daughter in a stern voice.
Megan decided a few weeks later to visit Morgan’s new school
and once again she talked to Morgan’s homeroom teacher, Miss Crone.
“Morgan is such a bright little girl with an extraordinary imagination,”
Miss Crone told her.
“My only concern” said Morgan’s teacher “is your daughter has
been sitting with the children during recess rather than playing the
games they normally play. When I questioned them about it, Morgan said a
nice man is singing songs to them. There’s never a man there singing.
The others sing along with Morgan all huddled together. It’s been going
on ever since your daughter arrived at our School. Her over active
imagination is having an effect on the other children.”
“That doesn’t sound like my Morgan,” said Megan.
Megan called her daughter over to ask her, “Who’s the man that sings songs to you.”
“He’s such a nice man, Mommy, funny, and kind,” she said. “He’s
teaching me Italian too. He sings to me in Italian, and then he
explains the songs to me in English.”
“That is what I mean,” said Miss. Crone, “your daughter has an extraordinary imagination.”
“How does this man look, Morgan?” asked Megan.
“He has a brown suit with stripes and a purple hanky sticking
out of his pocket.” Morgan went on to say “he wears the same suit every
day.”
Tears began to well up in Megan’s eyes as she knelt to talk to Morgan.
“It’s normal for children to make up stories,” said Miss Crone.
“What songs does he sing to you,” Megan asked her with a tear rolling down her cheek.
“Don’t cry, Mommy, they are happy songs,” Morgan said to her,
“they are about angels and love. You find out at the end of one of the
songs that only the children can see the Angel.”
“Wait here, Mommy,” said Morgan, as she ran over to her desk
and grabbed her bookbag. She then quickly ran back to her mother and
pulled out a notebook from her bag and handed it to her.
“I wrote the songs down for us,” said Morgan, “one song is
about an Angel watching over a young child but only children can see the
Angel. The songs are about love.”
Megan began to wipe the tears from her face, and she said to
Miss Crone, “those were the songs my father sang to me when I was a
little girl. I tried so hard to write down the words to his songs after
his death. My mother told me his love would never leave me and I
believed her.”
“Where did you get those songs, Morgan? At your Nana’s house?” asked Miss. Crone.
“No, the nice man sang them to me, and he told me to write them
down, so I did,” said Morgan, “He said the songs are for the children.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Watson, I will get to the bottom of this and find out who that man is,” Miss Crone said.
“That’s quite alright I know who that man is,” said Megan, “and
he can visit Morgan and the other children whenever he wants.”
As Morgan was walking home with her mom, she said, “Mommy that is Pappy that comes to my school isn’t it?”
“Yes it is,” said Megan.
“You are so lucky to have him as a daddy,” said Morgan.
A few weeks later Megan took Morgan to Mass at Morgan’s
grandmother's Church. Morgan got up from where she was sitting and began
to walk towards the altar.
Megan asked in a shocked voice, “Morgan what are you doing?”
With anger in his voice, the Priest told Morgan to sit down but
instead she turned to the congregation. Something came over her as if
someone or something was about to speak through her.
“Hey, lady, can’t you control your kid,” said a man sitting behind Megan.
“We all have the greatest gift that needs to be freely given,” Morgan said.
Some in the congregation became visibly irate including the
Priest, that a mere Child can have the audacity to interrupt the Holy
Mass. “Sit down,” the Priest said again in an angry voice.
The seven-year-old Child slowly turned to the Priest and said,
“We take life for granted. We don’t fully understand life, but Life is
freely given to us it is our greatest gift. A gift is not a gift unless
it is freely given. We experience that gift without fully understanding
what we have. What we are to others and what others are to us is a
free expression of life. The life within us is love in its purest form.”
The Priest and Congregation were awestruck that a small child was speaking to them with such eloquence.
“Life is the purest form of love, but it is not only expressed
within us. Our life is a gift to others. The more we express and share
the gift of life freely to others, the closer we come to understanding
that life is the greatest expression of love,” Morgan said to the
Congregation.
“How are you able to speak of such things at such an early age,” asked the Priest.
“I experienced love in its purest form, and I understand that
it is freely given unconditionally. God does not pick, choose, punish,
or reward us. We cannot please or anger God,” Morgan told the Priest.
Megan’s daughter once again turned to the Congregation and
said, “When we express the love that is within us openly and freely, we
come to understand that we are a gift that is freely given. We are the
presence of god for others ….. to emulate and embrace.”
Morgan walked back to her Mother and took her hand and they
walked out of the Church together. There was great chatter within the
Church as they walked out. The Priest regained control of the
Congregation by reading from one of the Gospels.
“Morgan, I understand,” Megan told her daughter.
“I felt a great presence around me that gave me the words to speak,” she told her Mother.
“I understand perfectly what you said,” Megan said.
“Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, and the others in the photos are in a
wonderful place. Some remain there for a long time and others like us
return to this world. We return to share our gift and understanding.
Mommy, in order to find Joy, happiness, and love in this world we must
bring it to others. Then and only then can we truly be content in life,”
she told her Mother.
“I was satisfied as a teacher, Morgan,” said Megan.
“You can still teach, Mommy, everyone can teach.”
“You are an awesome teacher, Morgan,” Megan said to her, “and I love you very much.”
Always with love from Lock Haven University
Thomas F O’Neill
Phone: (410) 925-9334
WeChat - Thomas_F_ONeill
Skype: thomas_f_oneill
Email: introspective7@hotmail.com
http://thomasfoneill.blogspot.com
Facebook: https:/www.facebook.com/thomasf.oneill.3
Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
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