~*~*~ Chapter 12 ~*~*~       I don't think that there was ever a doctor that enjoyed this particular part of his or her job.  I now get the great honor of telling a family that their 6-month-old baby is dead.  Joy.       As I walked into the ER, Dr Johnston called me over.       "The Littrells have been moved upstairs for overnight observation.  Room 502.”       "How is the baby?"       I couldn't even look at him.  In the eight years I've been a surgeon, I've lost my share of patients. But I have... had never lost a child on the table.  I had thought about my 18 month old son and what my life would be like without him, but had to shove it to the back of my mind.       He stayed silent as I turned and went to the elevators again.        I knocked on the door to Room 502. The door was immediately flung open to reveal a grinning man in sunglasses.  His face fell as he looked at me.       "Mr. and Mrs. Littrell?"  The woman on the bed and the man holding her hand looked up at me.  "I'm Dr. Denise Hammion.  We did everything we could, but I'm afraid..."        As many times as I had delivered this speech, nothing prepared me for the look of utter despair from Mrs. Littrell's gray-blue eyes, quickly hidden in her husband's chest as he tried to comfort her.  The knot in my throat grew as I looked at this couple.  The five other people in the room came forward and offered the little consolement they could.  I knew that I could be of no more help, so I quietly said goodbye and left.  I told the nurse at the station to page the chaplain, and left to go to the hospital worker's nursery.  I had a little boy that I absolutely had to hug. ********************************************************************************       I am standing in a place I have come to far to frequently in my short 23 year lifetime.  Only now, there is a tiny, fresh grave beside the one I have come to for so long. Thomas Jerald Littrell    March 15, 1998- September 13, 1998 "To the world, one life; to one life, a world."       Brian's arm is wrapped around my shoulder, Carmen and Nick are across from me with tears streaming down their faces, and Rachel stands beside me, holding her twins, Denise Mary Anne, and Alexander Thomas.  As the others leave, I remain here, thinking of a poem I heard long ago.  As I bid my angel goodbye for the last time, I look at the sky and whisper the long-forgotten words. Holes in the Floor of Heaven There must be holes in the floor of heaven How else could you come to me? You came straight from the angels And I am blessed because I knew thee. Now may the angels bear you back To enjoy forevermore The happiness you have showered on me. The End. -Sorika  If you made it this far, would it be to much to ask for an email? There you have it ladies and gents, the finished story, “Family Ties.”   I hope you enjoyed it, and that you will read the soon to come prequel about Rachel. (by request, thanks to Jen, Jodie, Marie and Emily).  Buh-bye!