This post is written to honor a small baby, Zeke, who died at age of 2 1/2 months. His precious mother, Elisa, has written a wonderful book, The Golden Sky, which will be released tomorrow. Please click on the image above, or on the link below to go to her site. There are many bloggers sharing their losses today. God bless them all.
There have been so many people whom I
have loved, treasured even, and who then died. It is a long list. All of these people touched my life and others’ lives, then left.
Bill. My brother Bill. That is the person whose life and then death hit me the hardest, leaving the biggest achy grief that never leaves me.
I was 3 ½ years old when Bill was born, still a very little girl. I recall clearly standing at the crib, with my eyes even with the crib mattress. Staring in at this red-faced baby, with his blond sticky-up hair, I didn’t know if I liked this change or not.
I reached my hand through the bars of the crib, and put my hand on the diapered butt. It was warm, in a wet way. Just then, he turned his face toward mine; he wrinkled up his nose and yawned. I decided I liked him. In fact I was going to be his protector, and take care of him his whole life.
Being his protector was not easy. Bill was an active boy, with long legs and a short fuse. The distance between seeing something to do and then doing it was split seconds. The most impulsive, charming, adventurous boy in existence: that is what I decided Bill was. Soon I gave up on the protection business. It would never work for Bill.
Oh, Bill. I find myself saying that several times a day, even now. Those two words say everything. He grew fast, ran fast; he ran away. One day Bill was still in high school, and then it seemed, the next day he was gone away somewhere.
To chronicle Bill’s life would frustrate the writer and the reader. Let’s just say that Bill had many adventures, all of which involved danger and helping people. All those adventures broke hearts, but his charm and impulsiveness were his way of leaving behind other people who sighed, “Oh, Bill.”
Bill died at age 44, the result of blood poisoning following a botched surgery. The surgery was necessary—all those adventures left behind damage in his long lanky cowboy body.
My role of ‘protector’ still haunts me. I think back at the phone calls Bill made to me over our adult years, and wonder if I could have said something that would have brought him home. I think of that final week, when he was dying but I didn’t know it.
If only, if only…the regrets of a protector.
I am thinking that someday in heaven, I will chase Bill across the clover fields he loved so much, and actually catch him. Boy, will I give him a hug or two, or a million.
In honor and memory of a little boy who died on November 18--Little Zeke
Click here! to see the release of 'The Golden Sky'