. . . friday 17 december 1971 . . .
. . . a day i will always remember . . .
. . . the last day of ninth grade
before christmas vacation . . .
. . . i had a new red outfit . . .
. . . there was going to be
a school dance that afternoon. . .
. . . i didn't go . . .
. . . my seven-week-old baby brother
never woke up that morning . . .
. . . today it's known as sids . . . . . . but thirty-eight years ago,
it was called crib death . . .
. . . at the tender age of thirteen,
i thought my world was coming to an end . . .
. . . today, as a parent myself,
i try to imagine the pain and anguish
my parents felt then/still feel
at the loss of a child . . .
. . . and i can't even begin to fathom it . . .
. . . i remember police officers coming to our house . . .
. . . an investigation and autopsy {accidental death} . . .
. . . i remember the never-ending outpouring
of love and support for our family . . .
. . . dad was our bishop . . .
. . . i still remember the chicken enchiladas
that minnie brought . . .
. . . not your usual pot-luck chicken enchiladas . . .
. . . no ~ these were made from scratch
{and lots of love}
with great big chicken chunks . . .
. . . i remember my mom and dad
forcing themselves
to put one foot in front of the other ~
making arrangements for
a next-day graveside service . . .
. . . a tiny white casket . . .
. . . the pink dress i wore . . .
. . . the cold december cemetery . . .
. . . i remember a new piece of christmas music
{published one year earlier}
~ mary's lullaby . . .
. . . but the wounds were too fresh . . .
{i still can't listen to it without tears}
. . . and yet, i feel hope and gratitude
for my knowledge and testimony
of the plan of salvation . . .
. . . because heavenly father wants us to be happy . . .
. . . and we will be happy if we're obedient . . .
. . . we'll be happy with our family forever . . .
{we just need to live the commandments}
. . . i know i'll see my baby brother, kyle, again . . .
{and if by some sad chance i don't
~ it'll be all my fault ~
not his}
. . . he was already good enough . . .
. . . he's just waiting for the rest of us
to prove ourselves . . .