Donald’s Superman Story Donald’s superman story began when he was two years old and he had a pair of superman jammies that doubled that year as his Halloween costume. We put black temporary hair spray in his cotton top, blonde hair, gave him the classic superman dangling curl on the forehead attached the cape and he was our little superman. The night we went “trick or treating” someone at mom and dad’s took a picture of him with dad (Grandpa Frank) and the picture made its way to a frame and was placed on the wall at Grandma and Grandpa’s for all to see for years to come. As the years past that blonde hair darkened up and the little petite boy grew to six foot three and was much more like the superman but with out the red cape. When he turned 16 he began “ flying” all over town in a red and white 84 Scottsdale truck. But those days of carefree youth (and I believe carefree pretty well sums up D’s personality) were cut short when Donald at age 16 suddenly died while on a canoeing trip with his church youth group, June 30th, 2003. The cause of his death is still a mystery. One possibility is that a virus attacked his organs and then some sort of injury to one of them caused the suddenness of his death. But in reality we may never know. All we know for sure is that he left our house one Sunday afternoon running around with smiles and laughter and we were all laughing when he bound out the door in a hurry to get to the church parking lot. While Donald was alive, he and I shared a song that was popular at the time, I believe the group that preformed it was called Five for Fighting and the song was It’s not easy to be me (The Superman Song). At the time I liked it because it attempted to be a “serious” song about Superman trying to fit in and I thought the lyrics were humorous. Why Donald liked it I can’t say for sure, neither of us were thinking of any deep meaning that the song was trying to invoke, it just was clever and fairly mellow for my taste. At any rate it became the only current secular song that we both would listen to and as was my practice it would get cranked up when it played. In short it was, if there can be such a thing between mother and son “our song”. After Donald’s sudden death we were planning the funeral, with which I had little to do because I was unable make many decisions at the time, but some one said we needed to find a picture of Donald for the front of the program. We found the only recent one we could that D was not making a face or giving bunny ears. He cared nothing for pictures and would not even bring home the school packs for us so we were in fact quite limited. After the funeral and visitation was all over I for the first time took a closer look at the picture on the front and noticed D had on a Superman shirt. He did not own such a shirt; it had bee borrowed by Sarah (D’s older sister) from a friend and Donald thought because it was at our house it was fair game. The connection with the Superman theme seemed to be growing stronger and was strengthened even more when my husband’s sister Debbie who was close to Donald called me the evening before the one year anniversary of his death, and told me she had heard a song that always made her think of D. It was the same Superman song. I had never mentioned anything about the song and the connection between D and I to Debbie, because it was just a quirky thing between mother and son, and Debbie confirmed that I had never mentioned it to her. As previously stated this call occurred a day before the one-year anniversary of D’s death. The day of the anniversary I had plans to spend time with my close friend Carla in Taylorville the town where I was from and where my son was buried. When leaving my house I stopped by the mailbox and picked up sympathy letters and cards from friends. There was a card in the mailbox from an unfamiliar name so I left it to be picked up when I came home. I need to interject that from the time of Donald’s death I had spoken to many other parents who had lost children, many of them asked me if I had any “signs” that D was okay. I really had not and truly believed that these sad mothers had somewhat lost it. I also had become either too hardened to listen to any preacher speak on the love of God or was too tender to hear anything “real” because eternal life was now a reality to me like never before. But whatever the case I could not bear listening to well meaning pastors in person or on the radio. However on that anniversary of horror I had turned on the radio while driving to Taylorville searching the oldies stations listening for any song that would create a needed distraction to the pain in my heart. While surfing I ran across a man talking about Superman, I was compelled to listen. The man was a minister out of Texas, Tony Evans. He was talking about when he was a little boy he was enthralled with all super heroes but that his favorite was Superman. He liked the idea that Clark Kent was just a mere mortal until he put on his suit with the big S. As he grew he came to realize that this is how we are if we have accepted Christ’s salvation. We are sinful people with no ability to save ourselves until we put on the “ S” for Salvation in Christ. The picture of my son with the S on his chest came immediately to mind. I told my friend Carla about what all had transpired with the song, Debbie calling and saying the song was a reminder of D, with the picture on the funeral program and then the message that was heard on the radio the day of the one year anniversary of D’s death. She agreed that it probably was God letting me know that Donald was covered by Christ’s salvation and that he was with God. It had been quite an emotional day and by the time I drove back home from Taylorville, after first stopping by the cemetery I was exhausted. As I made the turn into my driveway I remembered the one card I had left in the mailbox and pulled it out to read it. It was a note written from an acquaintance asking if my husband and I were doing ok, saying he was praying for us and was wondering if we had any signs from God that Donald was ok. Now as any one who knows me will tell you I am the last person to believe any “sign” kind of theology, but I now believe that God will send comfort to the broken hearted and that He is not limited in how He will do that. The message in this story although strongly personal and emotional to me is really a plead to make sure that you and those you love are covered with the S, so when your human body dies, and it will, there will be a supernatural covering (the blood of Christ) to “fly” you into eternity. A postscript on this story, my little man of steel although officially pronounced dead at a hospital in Sullivan, MO actually died in Steelville, MO. Mother and housewife in south central Illinois Source: www.articledashboard.com
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