I was 10, my grandmother died of pneumonia. She was comatose during her last days. They're taking me home. She laid back and died. I, too, have seen the angels, but not before I knew terror.
Healing always begins painfully.
I needed a human heart valve to replace one damaged since birth. I was stirred up, afraid and ashamed. I thought about dying before my wife, Gick, before our grandchildren became adults, before writing one more book, before our family reunion in the Ozarks. I was afraid I would die before I was ready. Gick, my children and grandchildren, friends, work and Grace church, a wonderful community of caring folks, were reason enough not to die.