My mom had three kids. There’s me, the youngest, and my older brother – but before either of us were born, there was Jonathan. He was a sweet little blonde boy, big blue eyes, known for accidentally repeating Dad’s swears in church. Wholesome kid, great in school, active outside.
When he was almost six, he was riding his bike and fell and hit his head on a rock. He got up and said he felt fine. My mom found him the next morning in his bed when she tried to wake him up to get to kindergarten, one pupil dilated and the other not. She got him air-lifted to the nearest hospital.
During this time, Jonathan’s best friend Nick was sitting at the breakfast table eating cereal. Nick suddenly gets up from the table and goes to the door. When his mom asks him what’s up, Nick says that Johnny was calling for him.
You see, Nick and Johnny lived on separate blocks, but they weren’t allowed to cross the street without a parent yet because they were still fairly young. But they lived close enough to call to one another to come out to talk at their respective street corners.
So Nick goes out to the street corner while his mother receives a call from mine that Johnny was just declared dead in the hospital (idle brain aneurism that was triggered by the fall). Nick’s mom can hardly handle this news and is now wondering where her son went.
But Nick comes back a few minutes later and says that he heard Johnny calling to him but he wasn’t at the street corner when he looked, then sits down to continue eating his cereal. When his mom asks Nick what Johnny was saying, Nick says he had come to say, “Goodbye.”
Thanks to Everything Paranormal and Weird for giving permission to use this story.
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