Talk to Me by Allison DuBois

keep you here if you need to go.’
    Then I turned away and silently prayed, ‘God, I beg you, please give her the strength to make it to her fourth birthday.’ I knew how much she loved birthdays.
    Miraculously, Irelynn made it. I always said Irelynn was a fighter. But I knew our time together was almost over.
    The night before her birthday I had a feeling it was going to be her last night with me, so I asked the nurses if I could sleep next to her. It was a challenge because of all the lines, tubes and equipment she was attached to, and just the thought of jostling her terrified me. I went to bed at about 3 a.m. I had spent a lot of time talking to Irelynn about heaven and all the good things I’d heard about it. I told her how much I loved her and would miss her sweet face every day of my life, and how incredibly proud I was of her.
    At 5.13 a.m. I woke up from a very short sleep because what seemed like a bright light came on, yet nothing was different. I went back to sleep then the light came on again: I was in a dream state and saw my grandfather and Irelynn. They had their backs to me and Irelynn was holding his finger. She turned around and said to me, ‘It’s okay, Mummy, I get to go play now.’
    I woke up instantly. ‘Did that really just happen?’ I asked myself. I looked at the clock: it was 5.46 a.m. I glanced at the nurse; she had a troubled expression on her face. I got weak then. I looked at Irelynn and the vital signs on the monitor and saw that she was fading right in front of me—Irelynn’s legs to her hips were black, her hands to her elbows were black, and her face was so cold.
    â€˜Dad, it’s time, she’s fading fast!’ I was beside myself.
    â€˜No, this can’t be!’ My dad sounded so defeated.
    We cried together. We called all our family right away to come and see Irelynn and be there for her last moments. I wanted to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. If you’d told me four years ago on the day she was born that in four years she would die on that day, I would have thought it the cruellest scenario one could imagine.
    As they prepared to take her off life support, my dad and I leaned over her and sang ‘Silent Night’. I had been playing carols to her because Christmas was right around the corner. No more than a minute after we finished singing, that same song came on the radio. It was 7.26 a.m.
    I said, ‘Okay, it’s time, we’re ready.’
    As much as I wanted to keep her with me, I didn’t want her to suffer any longer. I got on her bed and picked up Irelynn, cradling her in my arms. I stared at her baby face and kissed her as my heart broke into so many little pieces you could pass them through the eye of a needle. I put my hand on her chest so I could feel every last beat of her fragile angel heart. I kept telling her, ‘Happy birthday, beautiful girl. Remember, Irelynn, I love you more—and first!’
    And then I felt that last heartbeat of my four-year-old princess. ‘God, help me.’
    The doctor came over, listened to her heart and said, ‘I’m sorry, Mum, she’s gone now.’ He pronounced her at 7.45 a.m.
    When I finally left the hospital I felt like I was abandoning her; I felt so empty, lost and heartbroken. I said to my father, ‘I just left my daughter, Dad. I should be bringing her home like other parents. She’s gone.’
    My dad replied, ‘I know. I wish I could have taken her place. I would have taken every single bit of her pain. I wish I could take your pain away from you, too, and bring your daughter back.’
    That was all that was said for the rest of the day. Then I slept for days.
    Meeting Allison
    About a month later, my dad called my sister in excitement. ‘Tiffany, I want you to ring this number. See if you can get through. There’s this psychic lady named Allison Du-something on the radio station in Arizona. If you get