. . . my fourth brother . . .

. . . 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 . . .