Flying to Dallas by Rosemary

I think as soon as I hung up the phone with the hospital in Dallas, I called my father. He had already been told by his sister Eunice. I was ready to fly down right then, get there, be with my brother through what must be the scarriest moment of his life. My father wasn't. He told me he would drive. It angered me then. I know now that he just wasn't ready to face the facts.

I phoned my boss and told him what had happened. He never asked if I had time left to take off, he just said go. I'm sure that couldn't happen now. But it was a small company, and they actually cared about your life. I was fortunate. When I phoned the airlines, I got the first flight out the next day, Sunday. There were a lot of phone calls to make. There were my two other brothers I needed to contact. After talking to my oldest brother Joe, he offered to take me and mom to Dulles airport the next morning.

It must have been an extremely early flight because I still remember the sun rising over the little pond as you drive into the airport. Very early. I don't remember any of the flight or how we got to the hospital once arriving in Dallas. I just remember walking into the ICU and seeing my brother in this contraption. It was like a gurney that would flip. His face was down, facing the floor, so I just crawled on down there and got underneath of him. He look scared. Lord knows what I said. Probably something to lighten the place up a bit. I hope I did, for John's sake and for my family's sake. But, yes, of course, there were tears. Lots and lots of tears.