A Grieving Wife’s Miraculous Second Chance
Nola Swart was enjoying a peaceful weekend with her daughter Kelly, baking cookies and making memories. It was supposed to be a mother-daughter weekend, while her husband Fred and his best friend, James, were at their lake cabin, fishing. The scent of warm sugar and butter filled the kitchen, and Kelly was laughing, her hands messy with dough. Everything seemed perfect—until the phone rang.
Nola wiped her hands on her apron and picked up her cell phone. When she saw the name “Fred” on the caller ID, she smiled, thinking it was her husband calling to check in. But when she answered, it wasn’t Fred’s voice. It was James’s, and his words hit her like a punch to the gut.
“Nola?” James’s voice was shaky, as though he was trying to hold back tears. “Nola, it’s James. I’m so sorry, but Fred… Something’s happened to Fred…”
“N-No, James,” Nola’s heart raced. “What happened? Is Fred hurt?”
“No, honey,” James’s voice was soft but full of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Nola, you have to be brave… Fred is… Fred is dead.”
“No!” Nola’s voice cracked as she screamed into the phone. “Stop it, James! This is a joke, right? This has to be a joke! Stop it!” But deep inside, she felt it. It wasn’t a joke. The weight of those words crashed down on her. And the sound of James crying—like a baby, a man who had known Fred since childhood—told her all she needed to know.
“I’m so sorry, Nola… I’m so sorry,” James repeated. “He was right next to me, and then… he was just gone.”
Nola’s knees gave out, and she sank onto the couch, feeling as if the world had been ripped away from her. In a haze, she called her mother to ask her to sit with Kelly, her voice barely a whisper. Then, she drove two hours up into the mountains to meet James at the small coroner’s office near their cabin. Each mile felt longer, each second stretching out as she fought to make sense of it all.
When she arrived, James wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her into the cold, sterile room. The coroner stood by a white sheet covering a body. Nola’s hands shook as the coroner slowly pulled it back. There, lying before her, was Fred—his still face, frozen in time. The tears came in a flood.
“From what I can tell,” the coroner said, his voice professional but kind, “Mr. Swart suffered a massive heart attack and passed away instantly. I recommend an autopsy to be sure…”
“Never!” Jenny, one of Fred’s close family friends, cried out. “No one is cutting up my Fred. Let him rest in peace!”
The coroner sighed, understanding the pain. “I’ll issue the death certificate so you can proceed with the funeral,” he said softly.
Nola’s mind was a whirl of confusion, anger, and heartbreak. “The funeral… Fred always said he wanted to be cremated. I’ll make sure everything is just as he wanted.”
The following day, their home was filled with friends, family, and memories of Fred. They all came to pay their respects to the man who had been full of life, always the life of the party. Nola had insisted the casket remain open, so everyone could say their goodbyes. One by one, people approached Fred’s body, offering quiet prayers and whispered messages.
The priest, his voice full of emotion, spoke to the gathered crowd. “Even though we are hurting, even though we feel lost, we must remember Fred has gone to a better place, where he is now in God’s loving hands.”
Nola clenched her fists, her grief twisting into something darker. “God!” she muttered under her breath, her voice growing louder with each word. “If there was a God, Fred would be here right now, not lying cold in that box. God has left my baby fatherless!”
Some people turned to look at her, whispers spreading through the room. Her mother tried to quiet her, but Nola shoved her hands away, her voice growing louder. “What about my baby? What am I supposed to tell Kelly? Why don’t you ask God that?!”
Her mother wrapped her arms around her, trying to comfort her, but Nola pulled away, determined. “Wait!” she cried, her eyes wide with desperation as the funeral director signaled for Fred’s casket to be taken to the crematorium. “I need to say goodbye… please, just one more minute.”
Nola approached the casket, her heart pounding in her chest. She gently touched Fred’s cold cheek, her fingers trembling as she whispered, “I love you… I will always love you.” With a final kiss, she pressed her lips to his, feeling the weight of it—the last kiss she would ever share with him.
Then, something impossible happened.
Fred’s eyelids fluttered.
Nola froze, staring down at his face. “Am I… am I hallucinating?” she thought, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were telling her.
But then, Fred’s eyelids fluttered again.
Nola’s scream tore through the room. “He’s alive! Oh my God, he’s alive!” She stumbled backward, her voice cracking in disbelief. “Call 911! Call 911, now!”
The funeral director, who had assumed Nola was lost in her grief, was taken aback as he saw Fred’s eyes open, then slowly close again. Without hesitation, he turned to his assistant. “Call 911. Find a doctor. Get help, now!”
Fred was rushed from the funeral home to the hospital, with Nola holding his hand the entire way, unable to believe the miracle unfolding before her.
At the hospital, doctors confirmed what seemed impossible—Fred was alive. They explained that Fred had suffered an allergic reaction to a bee sting while fishing, so severe that his body had appeared lifeless. The small-town coroner, unfamiliar with such reactions, had mistaken it for death.
After several tests, the doctors confirmed that Fred was in a coma due to the reaction, but with medical care, he was expected to recover.
“I can’t believe it,” Nola whispered, relief flooding through her as Fred’s hand squeezed hers. “You’re alive. You’re really alive.”
Fred was soon home, recovering quickly, back to his energetic self. But for Nola, the memory of that day—the fear, the grief, the miracle—never left her. She had been given a second chance, a gift from a God she had nearly lost her faith in.
What did Nola learn from this extraordinary experience?
That life isn’t constant. It changes in an instant, and all we can truly rely on is our faith. It’s easy to doubt in the darkest moments, but sometimes, a second chance is the miracle we need to believe again. And in those moments, when you have that second chance, cherish the love you have.
