November 17: In Memory of....Bill. My Bill.

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.

Add caption

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.
  

My brother Bill with 'Sonny'

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'


 

That which was lost...

My husband John is a brilliant man, one of those rocket-scientist types.  We talk about asteroids and volcanoes.  He will watch a DVD on math and calculus for fun.

But, God love him, he has that selective memory many smart men have.  They know about physics and the elements table, but cannot remember where they left the car keys or how to set the sprinkler system.  

 Do you remember my search for his iPod?!  The Things My Husband Has Lost!

While I was gone, he had to call an electrician.  He ‘helped’ the electrician as they searched for the cause of the problem, which was in my writing room.  To allow access to the outlets, John cleared away all sorts of folders, binders, and assorted works-in-process.

Consequently, I have been searching for stuff for days.  Most important among those items was the Christmas cantata music our choir is practicing.  

 Man.  I tore apart every possible spot, every logical location that he might have placed my music tote bag. 

Huzzah.  That which was lost has been found.  John put the tote bag in with all the other re-usable totes we keep, in a dark corner in the kitchen. 

His response when I found it?  “Really?!  In that corner?  That’s really funny!”

Funny?  Not funny.  However, John lives to teach another day. 

What about your spouse or partner?  Do you struggle with the urge to scream?

For Your Dining Pleasure....

Tonight!  For your dining pleasure, dear insert family member’s name here , I will be serving a one-of-a-kind cassoulet .  Its contents? 

Heck if I know.

No, I do know.  The contents are from the pantry of “What do we have here?” and the larder of “What is its expiration date?”

I returned from a visit to my sister last Thursday.  It usually takes my body and brain about a week to connect.  Consequently, options were few when it came to tonight’s supper.

I found some cooked brown rice in the refrigerator.  It smelled fairly normal.  There was also a jar of spaghetti sauce, almost a half jar.  I had trouble opening it, but there was no green or black in the sauce. 

Then the carton of cottage cheese sneaked out from the back.  Its expiration date was November 3^rd , but it didn't have that sour nasty odor, and it was still white.

Scrounging a bit more in the dry pantry, I discovered a can of albacore tuna and some sliced green beans, along with diced tomatoes.

Tah-dah!  Drain the tomatoes, tuna, and green beans.  Mix it all together.  Add some Parmesan cheese.  Bake until bubbling.  Stir it up really well.  Top with non-moldy cheese.  Let brown a bit. 

Serve with a flourish and great style.  They will never know.   

P.S.  How do you spell “vwah- law”?