“Can you be a brave boy for me?”
When you’re an eight year old boy there’s really only one answer to that.
We were standing in Grandma’s kitchen. It was usually a busy place, especially when there was family visiting. And there was a bunch of family – my aunt and uncle had brought Grandma’s cousin Elanor from Germany out to visit, so they were there, along with their kids. There were other relatives there too. I don’t really recall who, exactly. But it was a pretty full house that night. The place should have been full of noise and laughter, and the kitchen should have been full of people. Earlier that night it had been. But now Mom and I had the room to ourselves. Strange.
It had been a chaotic evening. Dad had gotten sick, or something, out on Grandma’s porch, and the ambulance had come to take him to the hospital in Fort Madison, about 12 miles away. That had happened once earlier that summer, and I ended up staying at Grandma’s for a month while Dad was in the hospital.
Now here we were again, and I figured I would have to stay with Grandma again. But this time her cousin was there too, so I was thinking I would have to spend a month with this imposing German woman who spoke no English. It would take a little courage, for sure.
“Can you be a brave boy for me?”
I looked into Mom’s face. Her expression was like nothing I had ever seen. Her eyes were red and puffy, and everything I saw screamed “distress” in a way that even an eight year old could recognize. I suddenly knew that this was going to be a lot worse than living at Grandma’s for a while. But I was still an eight year old boy, and there was still only one answer.
“Yes, mama.”
“We lost Dad. He’s gone. It’s just us now.” We held one another and wailed.
And with that, the life we had known came crashing down around us. It was up to Mom and I to build a new one and move forward. I couldn’t be a little boy anymore, and Mom couldn’t be a housewife. Could I be brave enough? Could Mom?
Somehow we managed it. I really can’t sum up how hard it was to keep my promise. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Mom. But we managed.
Time heals all wounds, but the deep ones always leave a scar. Mom and Dad are both gone now, but not a day goes by without thinking of them.
Ron Nelson
❤️🙏
Kris Dickson
I heard that exchange, Walt, and remember the words exactly as you say. Was devastating. You were so brave. Your dad would have been proud.
Sherrey
So darn unfortunate. So glad you had such a wonderful mom.
Martin Hoel
I remember that day like it was yesterday. It doesn’t take much to open some wounds back up.
Rest assured, brother that you WERE a brave boy. It was devastating for everyone, but most of all for you. You fought your way through and you survived it well.
It is the burden of the living to carry on.
– Marty
Walt
Guys, I really appreciate all the love and support. The truth is, the only way Mom and I made it was with an amazing amount of support from a legion of people: family, friends, teachers, and neighbors. Many of them are gone now too, but the gratitude I feel for their help will never fade.
-Walt