MEMORIES
This is about two special angels, who's lives ended, before they had a chance to live.
I sat down to write this, with so many thoughts, and emotions going through my heart. Where do I begin, how do I tell the story of such beautiful little boys, who didn't have a chance to live life? Do I start at the day they were born? Or the day they became angels? There are so many things I want to say. I'll just begin, and let my heart say the words for me.
I learned I was going to have a baby spring of '76. It was a miracle in itself. When I was a child I was hit by a car, and was told, I would never be able to have a child of my own. I came to accept the fact I would never hold my own child. I would be friend, babysitter, Aunt, but never "Mommy". I had a routine check up, that wasn't so routine. I was going to have a baby!
Chris was born Oct. 12, 1976. He made his debut ten weeks early. He grew quickly, and I took him home six weeks later. He had the nickname of Kisser, because he loved to give as well as receive kisses. One of his favorite games, He would place a small toy between my hands, and the only way to retrieve it, was to give a kiss. He never tired of that game. He was such a happy baby. He was the first grandchild for my parents, who were as proud as any grandparents could be. Chris loved his Pappy. Where Pappy was, I knew Chris would be right beside him, helping him to "fix" what wasn't broken.
Dwayne was born August 23, 1977. He was five weeks early when he made his grand entrance. I had no labor pains, and because of the silent labor, the doctors, and nurses were not prepared. Dwayne was my little surprise package. He loved his big brother Chris.
My husband Pat was in the US Army, and got stationed in Germany. The boys and I joined him early September 1978. We were there ten days, when I woke up to the smell of smoke. The lamp in the boys bedroom had shorted out during the night. The apartment didn't have any smoke detectors. It was too late, Chris was dead, and Dwayne died on the way to the hospital. Both boys died of smoke inhalation, on September 20, 1978.
It's been over 20 years, but the horror, and pain, is just as fresh today, as it was, the instant my sons were taken from me. Memories of two precious little boys. My heart holds each special memory, while my arms ache to hold my babies, just one more time. The laughter still echoes in my ears, while silence deafens the world around me. My neck still feels the warmth of little arms reaching to hug me close, while the bitter cold of lonliness, slices through my heart and soul.
The day my sons were buried, I buried my hopes, my dreams, and my heart.
I never had the chance to hold back my tears, as I watched my child, start his first day of school, wanting to be brave, as he began a new phase of his life. I never dried his eyes, when he got his heart broken by his "first" love.
I would have been one of the proudest "moms" sitting there, as they handed out the diplomas, during graduation.
Would I have felt the pangs of jealousy, as I sat there, watching my son exchange vows, with the love of his life? Would she have been "good enough"? I'll never know my grandchildren, they were buried with my babies.
I've always loved children, and wanted a houseful. Now I'm friend, babysitter, Aunt, and once upon a time, I was "MOMMY"
PLEASE GO TO NEXT PAGE TO SEE A PICTURE OF MY SONS, AND TO SIGN THE GUEST BOOK.
The picture of my angels was made as a gift, from a specail lady, please click on the link to visit Sara's memorial to her angel Mark
The pictures of my angels was created using artwork of Danny Hahlbolm, please click on his link, to see other pieces of his artwork
Ligtht a star for a fallen angel.
Click on the star.
Thanks Sis, for these special gifts. *S*
