A Call in the Night

The phone is ringing. The room is pitch dark. I stumble to pick it up, noticing that the time is a little after 2 a.m.

"Hello."

"Is this Rona Swanson?"

"Yes."

"There is a policeman at your door."

"Excuse me?"

"This is the Visalia Police Department. There is a policeman at your door. Didn't you hear him?"

"No. I was asleep. Let me just look out the window and see if he is at our home."

I walked to the window and peeked down through the blinds from our second story bedroom. Sure enough, I could see a black and white cruiser parked in our driveway. I picked up the phone again. "Yes, I can see his car," I said. "I will go downstairs and answer the door."

Pulling on jeans and a shirt, I ran down the stairs and opened the front door for the officer standing there, inviting him in.

"Are you alone?" he asked.

I looked up at him, a bit confused. "No," I said.

"Who else is here?" he asked.

If anyone other than a police officer was asking this, I thought ... but answered, "My husband is upstairs."

"Go get him," the officer instructed.

I went up the stairs to get my husband Sam. He was already awake and I explained that there was a police officer downstairs wanting to talk to us. We both went back downstairs and the officer stood and faced us.

"I have very bad news," he said, drawing a deep breath. "This is the hardest part of my job."

I smiled encouragement to him as he drew himself up to speak.

"I have very bad news," he repeated.

I nodded at him to continue.

"Are you Rona Swanson?" he asked me.

"I am."

"Do you have a daughter named Rebekah Swanson?"

I could hear my heart ...thump, thump, thump as I answered, "I do."

Time slowed. The officer's eyes showed pain as he opened his mouth. My own heart was pounding, making my body feel its throb. The officer licked his lips and continued, "Rebekah was in an auto accident tonight," he said, "and she did not survive."

Sam made a sound as if he had received a physical blow and I saw him staggering to the couch, holding his chest. Sam had suffered a heart attack seven years before.

"Lord," I prayed, "don't let me lose him too."

My own heart felt as if it had become a bird and it flew in fluttering panic into my head, its feathers flapping against my ears in an attempt to escape. I felt as if in a moment it would find an escape and just fly away. In some ways, I wanted it to, but I gently placed my hands over my ears to prevent it.

The officer came closer to me. "You will need to speak to the coroner," he said, leaning over my bowed head.

I began walking to the kitchen and grabbed the phone.

"I can dial it for you," he offered.

"I can do it," I whispered and he read the numbers out to me as I pressed the buttons.

"Coroner's office," a voice said.

"I am Rona Swanson. I am calling about my daughter, Rebekah Swanson."

"Yes, Mrs. Swanson," the coroner replied, his voice softening. "I need to inform you that Rebekah was southbound on Freeway 41 at the interchange to 180. She was on the ramp to 180 when, for an unknown reason, she went over the abutment to the freeway. The accident occurred at 23:43 PM on 1-13-04. The investigating officer is J Banta and the report # is 2004-01133. You can call 268-0109 during regular business hours with any other questions."

As the coroner spoke, stating facts that my mind could not comprehend, I was scribbling the words on a piece of paper, knowing I would need every bit

of assistance I could get to remember what was expected of me in the hours to come. We finished our conversation and the officer followed me back in to the living room where Sam came and stood beside me.

"Do you need me to get a chaplain?" the officer asked.

"No," Sam said gently. "We will call Pastor Guerra in the morning."

"That's First Assembly?" the officer asked and Sam nodded.

'My daughter goes to school there, that's a good church."

"Yes," Sam said. "We will contact them in the morning."

"Are you sure you will be okay?" the officer asked.

We nodded and I asked for the officer's name.

"Officer Lopez."

"Officer Lopez," I said. "I want to thank you for your kindness and compassion. A bright light has gone out in the universe tonight. You were a very brave man to bring this news to us, but I thank you for your kindness."

He stood looking at me and then asked, as we moved to the front door, "You're sure you will be okay?"

We smiled as he went out of the door and we closed it behind him.

Rebekah's Journal

Wait For Her

wait for an angel to come to you.
You will dance together
in the dark of the night
to the music of your heart.
She will bring you
through this hell
into the brightest of light.
Teaching you how to dance
in perfect time with your heart.

Atone with Grief

Sam and I went upstairs to our room. Once there, we wrapped our arms around each other, and stood leaned together as the tears began to flow.

"Dear God," I cried. "Dear God."

We clung to each other, writhing in pain. As we both gasped for breath, Sam sat down with his hands pressed together. His eyes were squeezed shut, yet tears were streaming down his cheeks. Suddenly, as if a dam had burst, sobs began to wrack his body. As I listened to his sorrow, my mind was flying back over a million memories and visions and glimpses of our precious daughter Rebekah.

Rebekah was twenty-one years old, a senior at Fresno Pacific University beginning her final semester, and the apple of my eye. Not one day passed without a phone call or a quick e-mail between the two of us. Even when she studied abroad in England during her junior year of college, we "talked" daily as I became proficient at the art of Instant Messaging on-line.

My heart cried out, desperate to race after Rebekah, to pursue her even as my mind was awakening to the fact that she was gone, far beyond my reach. I was in a free-fall into darkness. I sat, bent over, hugging myself with my...