IT SEEMS SO LONG AGO

It was a cold January morning at this time. My wife and I had spent the day sitting at my son's side in the hospital at Northshore University Hospital. We were told by the doctor that he would not last the week, and we were in a certain denial, not wanting to believe it.

We had sat through the night and as the sun rose behind the gray gathering of clouds that cast the sadness across the sky, we decided to go home for a rest.

Leaving the hospital with your child dying, takes a little courage, and a biting pain in the stomach as you know you are playing with time and if you will see him alive again.

It was 37 years ago, and every day I think of him. He is still part of my life, with many ways I use to keep his memory alive.

Sometimes on TV, there are commercials that tug at your heart about children who are dying. I watch these commercials and feel a guilt that I don't send money every time I see one. Then I realize that I paid a price, a heavy price with no hope other than the doctors and nurses and some blind faith, a faith that had no currency and one that left me empty. It is hard to believe in God or any religion when you make the kind of sacrifice you do when you say goodbye to your child, especially a baby.