The first week of July 1992, I finally decided to take Steven off the monitor. July 7th, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning. I knew as soon as I woke up he was gone. His spirit had left his body. I could feel it. I went into his room and found him like so many other times, blue and not breathing. Like I said before, I couldn't stand there and do nothing so I started CPR as I dialed the phone (it was on speaker and I had 911 in speed dial). When the first MP (Military Police) arrived he took over the CPR and I went and put on a pair of pants and a jacket. I also had to get Bethani; she was 5 months old. My Husband was in Korea by then serving a 12-month tour. Then the ambulance arrived. A Doctor had come in the ambulance too and he decided he would try to revive Steven with or with out the DNR. After all that, it didn’t matter what we had decided. I tried, the Doctors tried, but it was his time to go and nothing we could have done would have made any difference.

At the hospital I called my parents and told them that he was still being worked on but that I knew he was gone. I called a friend also, from a support group I was in. And then I waited for them to come tell me what I already knew. It was very surreal. It was like I was there but I was not. I could see myself doing things but I had no control over them. I think I must have been in shock. When they finally came and told me all I could do is say I know over and over again. A nurse led me into a room to view his body. I remember telling myself don’t touch him, but it didn't matter, I did anyway. Without thinking I took my hand to brush the side of his face like I had done so many times before. The moment I touched him was when I finally realized it was forever. He was so cold. Colder than I had ever felt before. It seemed to reach right inside of me and pull my guts out. All I wanted to do was to find some place to crawl up into and hide. It was so deep I couldn't even cry. It was several days before I started to feel again. I finally cried when I was in my own mother’s arms, and she was able to hold me.

For years after his death, I was numb. It was a cold that reached down into my soul. I couldn't feel, it was like I wasn't even there, my body kept functioning but me, who I am was not there anymore. You see, I had lost my faith at first, and it has been a struggle to get it back and its not like it was but I am working on that, and even though it still hurts the deep abyss of cold is gone. I have the Lord to thank for that!! It took me many years, through a deep depression to finally feel again and when I did start to feel again I finally realized that God had never left me, I had shut him out. I can't say it will never happen again (I don't want it to ever happen again), but this time I am going to try to take life one day at a time and give up to God what is his, and keep my eyes upon him.