I’m Amanda and I’m a 25 year old librarian-in-training. I’m from the mountains of North Carolina but now live away from home so I can complete my degree. Last year, I was hired to build and maintain websites for my department which is a job I unexpectedly fell in love with.
Tell us about your sister.
My brother and I are nearly Irish twins with myself being the oldest. Therefore, when I was 4 and found out that another baby was on the way, I was determined to have a sister.
I’m still convinced that it was only all my whining that made her a girl! (She wore blue for the 1st year of her life since the ultrasound images had insisted she was a boy)
My sister was the center of attention in our family. And it was for good reason because she would stop breathing. I’m guessing she probably stopped breathing around 20 or so times in the first 10 years of her life.
After awhile, the doctors realized that she has mild cystic fibrosis. So, my childhood was spent being on constant vigilance that her little chest continued to rise and fall. As such, I often slept with my hand on her back. Even now, I can feel her thin shoulders and warm skin pressed against my palm as she slept.
One summer night, my family was traveling through some back roads headed to a drive-in theater. Due to my siblings being prone to hitting each other, I always sat in the middle between them.
When we finally found a gas station, my stepfather carries her in and we rush in behind. We yell at the clerk to clear the counter. My sister is laid down and CPR is resumed. The ambulance arrived sometime later and they quickly carry her out, put her in the back, and then speed down the road.
We run back to our car and follow behind. I’m clutching the seat, barely able to breathe myself, muttering prayers, when the ambulance suddenly loses its lights and slows down. Things proceed as normal to the hospital where my sister was just fine.
Mom said that when my sister was not responding to treatment, the emergency personnel decided to inject a needle into her heart. Just as they were uncapping the needle, my sister suddenly sat up.
My sister doesn’t like to talk about what happened. She only told me what happened once and will not repeat it: She was looking out the window into that dark night when she saw a black horse running alongside the car on the other side of the fence. She turned her head in order to keep sight of it.
Honestly, I think that what she saw terrified her. Or maybe she was told she could never tell anyone? She paused several times while telling me the story and would shake her head. She was 8 years old and a talkative child.
My siblings and I went to summer Bible camps which were mostly an excuse to have a free babysitter. Other than that, our family’s views on the afterlife are very warm-fuzzy “we’ll see them again someday” that are not based on anything specific.
Thanks for sharing your story, Amanda! Do you guys have any questions? Any similar experiences?