Another Godwink

 How a Newspaper Clipping Brought Peace Despite Loss

By EC Stilson

In moments of profound loss, some people look for signs—just a hint of hope that makes us feel like our loved ones are at peace. Recently, my youngest daughter, Indy, and I witnessed something that seemed surreal.

The story centers around my dear friend Ralph who just passed away in his 90s. He’s been a close friend and a sort of father figure to me for nearly a decade. Anyway, I felt stunned to hear when doctors gave Ralph a grim prognosis: three to five days left to live. 

Defying the odds, Ralph outlived that timeline by almost doubling it. During those final days, my husband and our children rallied around his bedside, holding his hand, reading books aloud, even playing my violin—simply hoping to bring Ralph some peace.

One of the last days when he was still alive, Lana came to visit. Ralph dearly loved her, and I’ve grown to care about her, too, after meeting her a couple of years ago. But when she sat by Ralph’s hospice bed recently, I had no idea that a massive "Godwink"—a moment of divine coincidence—would happen.

This story actually starts in 2019—about six years before I met Lana. She had a habit of clipping articles out of the newspaper and using them as bookmarks. I guess she’d borrowed a book from Ralph’s library that year, and needing to keep her place, she cut out a newspaper article and slipped it between the book’s pages.

Fast forward to recently, with Ralph nearing the end of his life.  Lana decided to return the book she’d had since 2019. But before placing it back on his bookshelf, she wanted to see which article had been shut inside. That's when she discovered something that left her completely stunned.

The newspaper clipping she’d used as a bookmark was an article titled "A Dream of Eternity," by EC Stilson (me!). Published on Friday, February 1, 2019 (Indy’s birthday!). What’s astounding is that when Lana cut out that specific column, she hadn't even met me! 

Indy and I gaped, watching all of this unfold.

“You must've been having a really hard time when you wrote it,” Lana said, “but then again, it must've touched me because I saved it.”

Several things struck me about that particular article, like it being published on Indy‘s birthday. But the most emotional revelation came when Ralph’s son read the article later.

The piece detailed a heartbreaking, personal loss of mine: the passing of my infant son, Zeke Jackson Morris, who lived from November 18, 2002, to January 30, 2003. In the article, I’d written about the agonizing grief of wanting to know where he was, and if he felt happy and safe in the afterlife. I shared a vivid dream where I walked along a beach at sunset with a tall, healthy man who ultimately revealed his identity: He was Zeke, grown up and okay.

Ralph’s son relayed how much he'd needed to read my story of comfort, heaven, and eternity. I could hardly believe that something I'd experienced and written could've possibly brought him solace and peace as he prepared to say goodbye to his father.

Looking at the clipping, I felt moved to tears myself because although life can often seem like too much, it’s also filled with incredible blessings. I mean, what are the odds that Lana would clip something out of the newspaper that I’d written, long before she ever knew me. Then for it to be published on my daughter's birthday, brought to Ralph’s son at the exact moment he needed to feel peace about the afterlife?

In the face of impending loss, this old piece of paper transformed from a simple bookmark into a beautiful reminder for Ralph's family—and mine—that love, comfort, and connection can truly endure across eternity.