Pushing up to my tippy toes, I stretch out my arm reaching just a little further. Only an inch more and that’s all it will take to make the big silver, shiny thing mine. I had watched grandma pour drinks from it all morning long. Everyone had been drinking from it, and I was thirsty.
The thing was, no one was paying any attention to me. The entire family was huddled in
hushed tears together in the family room. I could see them if I wandered around the counter to check, but I didn’t care to bother them now. I knew they were sad. My brother died today.
I can almost reach the big shiny thing and they will all be so impressed and proud of me when they see how I poured my own drink.
My fingers flick at the side of the slick surface, slowly moving it closer in my direction. But uneven tiles halt its progress, jolting it forward too quick for my little hands to respond. Falling with a crash the lid explodes in a rush of fiery liquid.
Honestly, the moments when the coffee splashed across my body have been blocked from my mind. I was only two. But I still harbor hazy memories of my father sweeping me into his arms, my mother and grandmother nearby.
The ambulance ride, packed heavily in ice with my father at my side is a strong imprint. It registers right up there with reaching for that giant coffee maker and my mother coming home from the hospital without my brother. It was never my intention that day to compound the situation for my mother or busy my father by giving him something else to do besides sit and grieve. But I was a toddler – what did I know?
I don’t share this story with you to elicit pity or sadness. No, I am fine – don’t worry about me. If anything that event gave me an extremely thick under coating. It made me stronger as I grew older. Some might call it scarred, but I don’t think that’s really what I am. In some odd way I’m enriched from the experience.
The real reason I shared this story today is because like so many other babies, my brother
didn’t see more than a few days of life. It reminds me of my friend Elisa’s story regarding her son Zeke. AND that is the real reason my mind wandered down this path. Elisa’s journal about her son’s life is about to hit the stands this week on November 18th! How great is that?! So now The Golden Sky will be available to help others in dealing with their pain and loss such as Elisa experienced, and my parents so very long ago.
In promoting the launch of this very special book I am participating in a large blogfest on
Thursday the 17th. All the participants will be honoring Zeke by dedicating a post to someone they have loved and lost. I will be writing about my sister Kristi. If you would like to participate in this event and help promote the launch of this extraordinary book head over to Elisa’s blog now and sign up for this Thursday. Click on The Golden Sky picture and it will whisk you off directly to your intended destination. The more the merrier!