Rev. Marilyn Cummings on the gift of the empty room

Resurrection Story

She came back to the hospital, four years to the day after his death. First she went to the children’s cancer center, to seek out the doctor, nurses, and staff who had cared for her son for two years. She thanked them. Next she asked the receptionist to page the chaplain. The chaplain got a call that there was a lady in the lobby who wanted to see her, whom she had known a few years ago. “Can you give me a name?” It’s Campbell.* The name didn’t sound familiar, but she went to the lobby. There she was greeted with a warm embrace by the woman, who was well dressed in a black dress and high heels, as if for a special occasion. The woman looked vaguely familiar. The chaplain said, “Tell me your child’s name.” It was Joey. Then it all came back…the years of chemo treatments, hope that became more and more difficult to maintain, prayers that became more desperate, and finally Joey’s last days in PICU room 5.

Joey’s mother came back. She always knew she had to come back to revisit the people and places from that painful time. She told the chaplain her story, that she couldn’t face returning the first three years. On the anniversary of his death she would wear the black dress she wore at his funeral and cry all day. This year was different. Even though she had moved out of state, she knew it was time to come back.

The chaplain asked if she wanted to revisit PICU. The mother said “yes.” As they entered the unit, Room 5 was straight ahead, the doors wide open. A patient had just been transferred out of the room, so it was empty except for a few chairs. The mother commented on how familiar the room looked and pointed out the big purple recliner on which she had spent many days and nights. The chaplain asked if she wanted a few moments by herself in the room. She said “yes.” After a few moments, the mother emerged. She was smiling and composed.

The chaplain asked what this experience was like for her. She said that now she could “let go” of Joey, and that she felt “300 pounds lighter.” The nurse practitioner remembered Joey and his mother and came over to talk. The mother shared memories and deep appreciation for the staff, who she said were “like family” and helped her get through Joey’s death. It was a deeply moving moment for everyone. The mother commented that God had given her the gift of the empty room, allowing her to spend time revisiting and reflecting on her experiences there. The chaplain commented to the mother that the room must feel like sacred space for her. She nodded in agreement.

She came back, four years to the day of six-year-old Joey’s death, wearing the black funeral dress. She thanked us and embraced us.

Ritual. We all reconnected and experienced healing. The room was empty. The “tomb” was empty. Resurrection. Truly we walk on sacred ground.

* Names have been changed for confidentiality.

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