My son John died as a result of a drowning accident in June, 1990. We buried him on his 17th birthday. After having a daughter, and only wanting two children, I prayed that God would send me a son, and He did. I feel John was a gift to me for 17 years, and that God took him back to Heaven to be with Him. If you will read my rainbow story, then you will know I don't question it anymore, I just accept it, and really, what else can we do in these situations. We can go crazy thinking about it, but that serves no purpose to ourselves, or to others who are left behind with us.

John was a fun loving person, he loved to be with his friends and was a little bit of a clown. Those teenage years were typical of many these days, a little troubled in that he had come to dislike school and the constant struggle of becoming a man, yet still a little boy in many ways. He loved to roller skate and to go to the Mall. He spent a lot of time at his sister's and was very close to his nephew, Justin, who was only four years old at the time. He'd become interested in girls, and had broken a couple of hearts already.

At the funeral home, I stood for hours as the line of people just kept coming. It was the young people who brought me the most comfort. They all had such sweet things to say about John, how he made them laugh, how he had been a friend and helped them when they were going through a tough time. How better to be remembered.

It's the memories that keep me going. In the beginning they flooded my mind and they made me cry. Now, they still are there, everyday I think of him, especially when I look at the clouds and especially when I see a rainbow, but now the memories bring me comfort and make me smile.