You Are What You Eat (Book One)

Chapter 27

Rosie Crawford

Three days before Mikey wakes

I lifted the long match and brought it to light the votive candle in my church. I worried so much for my youngest grandson. I feared he won't make it but I prayed every day for him. I put him in our prayer group and they prayed as well. I hoped the Lord has heard us and will bring him back soon. I said a silent prayer before doing the sign of the cross. I turned, seeing one of my dear friends, Father Edward. I sighed as he smiled softly. "Good morning father." "Good morning Rose. You're here early. Mass doesn't start for an hour."

Honestly, if he weren't a priest I would go back into dating for him. He was the sweetest thing. Not much older than me. Well-built for someone his age with a full head of graying hair. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. "I'm worried about my grandson." He frowned. "Oh yes. He's in a coma? And so young." I nodded. "Yes and no amount of praying is easing my worry or fear." "You need proof he'll be ok. Not the uncertainty." "Yes. I know I should have faith but..." I trailed off and he seemed to understand. He nodded, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Uncertainty isn't a bad thing. Just means you know what you want. I know it won't be much help but in times like this you just have to have faith that the Lord is doing what is best for him, whether or not that means he'll make it." I nodded. "I know. I'm just scared." He held my hand, leading me to a pew. "Let's pray together."

He reminded me of my late husband. He always had faith in me even when I didn't have faith in myself. Was always the bleeding heart and soft speaker. Always fed the animals and volunteered at soup kitchens.

While driving home from mass I got a call from Margret. I picked it up, answering on an old fashioned flip phone. "Hello dear. How's everything?" I stopped at a red light. She sniffled. My heart seemed to stop. Was this the call? The call telling me he's passed? "He's still not waking Rosie. I don't know what to do. I hate the thought of pulling the plug and giving up on him but being in a coma is no way to live. He's not even six years old."

I wiped away a few of my own tears as I stopped at a red light. "I know dear. I'm scared too. I've been praying for him. And you wouldn't be giving up on him. You're right; being in a coma is no life for him. But we can't lose faith. I think if he hasn't woken up within a year you should consider it but not a few months." "You're right. As always."

I smiled sadly but suddenly someone was honking their horn behind me, it was a green light. He yelled from his window, muffled. "Com'on! Let's move it!"

I shouted back through my open window. "Blow it out your ass!" I pressed on the gas, speaking in the phone. "Sorry about that." "Traffic?" "Of course. How's Marshall dealing with this? He doesn't talk to me about it." "Not too good. He's been drinking a lot more. I think if Mikey wakes up he'll be ok but he doesn't want to think of any other outcome other than him waking up. Every time I bring up possibly having to pull the plug he shuts me out and avoids the conversation all together." "He never dealt with emotions well but he has gotten much better." I pulled into my driveway. "I'm home now Margret, keep me updated." "I will. Bye." I hung up, feeling a heavy weight in my chest.

For the next two days I could barely sleep without thinking of my little grandson dying. I tried to distract myself. I held my cat as I watched one of my game shows when there was a knock on the door. I gently placed my cat down, getting up slowly and walking to the door.

I opened it and saw a young man, brown hair, spiked up the middle with a red flannel underneath a leather jacket. "Hello ma'am, your Marshall's mother?" I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my son? How did you find me?" "I'll explain. A friend of mine was dating his daughter, but things got really bad and while they were away he broke into your son's house. I found you because I have to do what's right. My friend, Brent, while he was in their house found a horrible room that's in their basement. Locked and hidden underneath a rug. Your sons a murderer Mrs. Crawford. In that room are knives and tools that no man needs along with a large, metal table."