WITNESS TO MY BROTHER’S EXECUTION: Epilogue

By Gina Farthing

Published: April 16, 2005

Fifteen minutes after entering the witness room, we departed in the same order. Our administrative escorts tried to console us as we returned to the rest of our family. But, Mom and I offered them solace instead.

We rejoined the family to be escorted to the safety of obscurity again.

Traffic stopped as we drove by the now departing small crowd of protesters.

As we left Columbia, I remember thinking how wonderful it would be to pass so peacefully.

One hour after Michael’s death, my mother heard a faint whisper in her ear.

“Mom, mom. I am here. I am here. I’m OK,” it said.

The next day, while walking through my mother’s living room, I got an overwhelming urge to turn around, as if being beckoned.

My eyes locked on a picture of Michael holding Maggie. They were smiling. They looked happy to be together.

The photograph was taken a week or so before Maggie’s death. It was my brother’s gift to all of us.

Suddenly, behind their two figures, the background went foggy, almost misty. Michael and Maggie appeared three-dimensional, as if physically in the room and looking at me. Their faces grew lighter than the rest of the room.

It was a message. The words in my head were: “It’s OK. It’s OK to move forward again.”