Michael's Page
"His spirit is as free as the eagle,
as he soars on
Angels wings in Heaven".
Click to hear One Sweet Day
Comment By Father
A bit of information about my son,
Michael Anthony Gwinn,
born Mar. 31, 1980, died Feb. 7, 1996.
Michael was an A student throughout his school years.
He started out in kindergarten asking his teachers questions
about space that they could not answer.
In the fourth grade he set his goal to be a brain surgeon.
He was Valedictorian of his 8th grade class.
He listened to popular music of the day
but also liked the classics like Mozart and Beethovan.
He enjoyed working in the flower garden with his mother
and playing with his dog. He read King and Koontz
and also Tolstoy and Chaucer.
When you read his story, "Sadness",
keep in mind that it is a story that was written
as a composition for his Freshman English class.
The entire story is his own thoughts and ideas.
He was 14 when he wrote this story,
one year before the Lord called him home.
This story will reach deep into your heart.
I have asked "How could a 14 year old
know such things, such feelings?"
You will wonder the same question.
Kenneth E. Gwinn
Sadness
It has been three years since that
awful night on Bald Mountain.
I can still distinctly feel
the misery of that night.
I have tried and tried to forget,
but the harder I try
to lose those memories,
more and more come flooding back.
The pain I have had to live with
is unbearable, and I don't think
I can take much more of this.
I must tell of the deeds of that night
so that I may finally be able to sleep
without the nightmares to keep me up.
The day began like many others.
My family and I were headed to our
summer home on Bald Mountain,
so named because of my
daughter's great love
of the film "Fantasia."
We had planned to have a nice,
quiet summer in the cool,
calm woods surrounding the mountain.
This was also to be the long awaited vacation
that our family was over due for.
I was getting time away from my job,
the kids were getting out of the city,
and my wife, my lovely wife,
was getting away from the
monotony of city life.
"It's going to be so wonderful to get
away from the city,"
my wife Milla was saying.
"I agree. It has been quite a long time
since our last vacation.
The kids will enjoy the mountains
this time of year."
"That's true. We'd better get them inside
before it gets too dark."
"Oh, don't worry. They'll be fine.
Remember the days are longer now,"
I said, giving Milla a peck on the cheek.
God, do I ever miss the fond moments
that I have shared with her.
She used to be so beautiful,
but look at her now,
I swear that the trip
aged her before her time.
Well, what can I say?
The whole thing started just fine,
though that aspect of it
is fading faster than it should.
Milla and I unpacked our things and
began making the cabin
feel like a welcoming home.
We fixed the children's rooms,
made all the beds,
and got most of the other demeaning tasks
done before starting the
holiday for ourselves.
"Come get into your bathing suits
before you go into the lake,"
sweet Milla cried out to the anxious
children who were just about to dive
into the lake in their normal clothes.
Disgusted that their fun be delayed
for such a thing as the proper clothing,
the kids, Jonathan and Lori,
reluctantly heed Milla's calls.
"Hold on a minute," protested Milla
as she tried to apply sunblock
to John's back.
Laughing I said, "We might have to
strap them down just to be sure that
they don't ruin their vacation
by over doing it on the first day."
"If you don't want to help,"
Milla said a little annoyed,
"then go and do something useful."
Those memories are the greatest ones
I have of my family.
The children giving their mom
a difficult time
and me getting into trouble for
finding the humor just a bit early.
After that we'd all find the humor
in the situation and burst out laughing.
Sadly I will have no more of these
fond memories for the reasons you will find
in the following lines that I write.
The first few weeks that we spent at the cabin
were cheerful and happy ones.
We were having the time of our lives.
The kids spent their time camping, fishing,
and hiking, while Milla and I
spent our time taking walks on the beach,
and moon lit strolls in the woods.
It was then that things started
to turn for the worse.
The weather was the first to start changing.
It turned from sunny and cool
into a thunderous downpour
with devastating humidity.
The rains lasted for three weeks.
The nonstop patter of huge rain drops bursting
on the windows was about to drive us mad.
We tried to put up a
positive attitude toward it,
all the while hoping that the rain
would soon stop.
Finally it did stop and all our hearts
rejoiced at the improvement in weather.
The whole family did a little
"fair weather dance" to the sun as it
burned through the dense layer of clouds.
It was I who came up with the idea
of a nice long hike through the woods
to a small campground
high up on the mountain.
Jonathan and Lori were elated
about the thought of spending two or
three nights at the place
where they first went camping.
I began to have an improved outlook
about a vacation
I would have swore was ruined.
Two days after making the plans
about the camping trip we launched out
on our trek into the wilderness.
We gathered up our gear and provisions and
left the cabin looking back at
our "three week prison"
as John joyously called it.
It was no secret that was how
we all saw the cabin
after the long "imprisonment" we'd had
within its walls.
The trip was harder than we had expected.
The leaves were still damp and water
continually dropped off the tree limbs
soon soaking us to the bone.
This, however, did not stop us.
We pushed on through the woods
dreading the thought of returning
to the cabin without a short escape
from the place.
We rested on a boulder about a mile or so
from the campsite, so that we can rest our feet
and have something to eat.
Looking back to that time,
and remembering the sight that I saw
is enough to make me cry, because,
after today,
I shall never be back to see it again.
Calling Jonathan back from a rock that
he had been climbing,
we continued to the camp.
When we arrived, I plopped down
under a tree and watched happily
as my family, my sweet,
sweet family, did the same.
Suddenly we all began laughing for
we were all a sight to be seen.
The kids had leaves and briers
stuck all over them
and Milla had torn her clothes.
They said that I was a worse sight
than they were.
Reportedly I had twigs in my hair and
my back was said to be covered with grass
and pine needles.
This gave us all a good laugh and
eased our spirits.
I was refreshed by that cheerfulness
that possesses one when they have
experienced ultimate happiness,
and began to set up the tents and
gather firewood.
That night we camped in the traditional way,
roasting marshmallows, cooking hotdogs,
and telling ghost stories to scare the crap
out of each other by making up tales about
what eerie events occurred in these woods
at one time or another.
This was the type of family bonding
every parent dreams of.
We were spending time with out kids and
no one was complaining about a thing.
I do wish so much that I may be able to share
more evenings like this with my family.
Milla, John, Lori, and I all went to bed
happily that night.
I guess that it was fate that
allowed this evening to be so glorious.
I went to bed and fell to sleep quickly
like the rest of the family did.
The happenings of that night
are still unclear to me.
I remember John waking me
while trying to leave the tent.
I asked him why,
and he said that nature was calling.
I chuckled at that and
went right back to sleep.
I don't know how long it was
between John's call of nature
and Lori's scream,
but I do remember
that awful blood curdling scream.
Jumping out of bed I ran out of the tent
to see what was the matter.
As soon as I opened the flap of the tent
I saw the reason for the scream,
Jonathan was lying
in front of the girl's tent
face down in the dirt.
I was petrified by the sight.
The first thing I recall after that
is Milla slapping me across the face and
saying that he was still alive.
This shocked me out of my stupor and
I ran over to him and picked him up.
When I had lifted him up into my arms,
I saw that he had been bitten
on the thigh by a snake.
My first thoughts were how could something
like this happen to my boy.
The next, I was cursing the heavens
for letting this happen to my boy,
my only son, my dear Jonathan.
Quickly I ran back into the tent
to get dressed
and calling back to Milla and Lori
to tell them to stop the bleeding.
I was out of the tent and back
by John's side in a few seconds.
"We have to get him to a hospital,"
I cried as I lifted his limp,
cold body into my arms.
"I'm going to take him
across Old Man's Bridge.
It's the quickest way back down."
"We're coming with you,"
cried Lori and Milla between sobs.
I tried desperately
to dissuade them from going,
but they wouldn't hear of it.
So we began the six-mile trek
back to the cabin.
For the most part the trip back
was going great
under the circumstances.
We were slowed a little bit
by the dense brush
which felt like steel walls holding us back,
but we made it all the way
to Old Man's Bridge.
That old bridge was little more than
two ropes with wood placed between them,
but it would have to do.
Being that Milla was afraid of heights,
I made her go in front with Lori
following me because she was the lightest
of the three of us.
When Milla and I had gotten to the other side,
we waited for Lori to walk the last few yards
to the safety of solid ground.
I had just set Jonathan down to check
his bandages when I heard
Lori and Milla's echoing screams.
I turned and saw that Lori had fallen
through one of the rotten boards and
was just barely hanging on.
I started running as fast as I could
toward Lori, but with every yard I ran
the distance between us grew three.
When I was about three yards away
I heard the distinct cracking
of wooden boards.
I dove to reach Lori
just as the boards gave way.
I landed on my stomach,
knocking the wind out of me,
and grabbed Lori's shirt sleeve.
Hanging onto her sleeve with
the strength of ten men,
I began to raise her.
Then the worst possible twist of fate occurred,
while I pulled on the sleeve to save her life,
the sleeve detached itself
from the rest of her shirt.
Crying out in the grip of fear
I made a final lunge out toward her.
I know that many people see the world
as a warm and loving place,
but I can never see it that way again.
The world itself has changed my mind for me.
In the same night it has taken away two
of the most precious things in my life:
my son with a snake bite,
and my daughter through a bridge,
teasing me in the cruelest way
by letting our fingertips touch,
without grasping,
one last and painfully brief instant
that will stay with me
for an eternity.
What happened after that
I do not really know.
I can remember getting home and
calling for help but not much else.
The rest of the memories of that night
were supplied by a psychiatrist.
She told me that I had gotten Jonathan
to the hospital just a few minutes too late
and that Lori's body was never found.
This news was said to upset my wife so much
that they had to put her on
powerful medication just to calm her down.
I was told that I myself
had been put on suicide watch
for three days before my sanity returned.
That was three years ago now,
and the memories of pain
are still all too clear,
while the memories of happiness
are fading way too fast.
Milla is still on medication and
I still see the psychiatrist,
though it no longer helps.
Tonight I put an end
to the pain and suffering
that Milla and I are going through.
Tomorrow the world will find us
with our kids.
The family will again be together....
this time for all eternity......
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