Random Thoughts and Musings

What seems like a lifetime ago, my baby brother was born. I did not know it at the time, but my mother had just miscarried the year before, another boy. She and my stepfather had been trying for a few years to have a boy. All it meant to me was that I got to cuddle another little sweet bundle of coo, and that Mom would let me help take care of him. Steven brough joy from his first moment of life. He grew up to be an all-star sport player (thrilling my stepfather) and a conscientious young man (thrilling my mother). I was always a second mother to both of my siblings: my parents relied on me heavily to be responsible for them and help out around the house. I never knew that they appreciated my help with the kids until the year 2000, when my brother was 16 years old. June 29th - a day I was celebrating because it was my BFF’s baby girl’s 1-year birthday (although C & Lil B had moved back to FL, I still had a cupcake in her honor). After work, I went to the local hangout with my shipmates, and we were singing Karaoke and flirting and being silly. My phone rang, and a quick glance told me it was my folks. Something told me to answer, despite the noise and rowdiness of my surroundings. I dashed outside, my body feeling heavy and my heart racing. I answered, but I couldn’t hear anything on the other end. Suddenly I heard  a loud sob coming from my stepfather. Screaming now, I asked “Are you okay? Dad? Are you okay? Do I need to call 911? Dad!!” His response was another sob, with a “no” at the end. More sobbing. “Dad, is it Mom? Is Mom Okay? DAD!! What’s wrong?” My friends were surrounding me, my current boyfriend had wrapped his arms around me to support me because my knees had given out. “Dad? Is it T (my sister)? Tell me! What is wrong?!?” He broke, the sobbing becoming louder, his voice finally breaking through. “It’s Steven. Angel! It’s Steven! Our baby boy. He’s …” Again, his voice broke, his sobbing increased. “Was there an accident? Is he okay? Is he in the hospital? Dad? Dad you have to tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know. Take a deep breath. Let’s figure this out.” “He’s .. he’s … he’s gooooooone! Angel, he’s gone! You have to come home. Our baby boy is gone. Please come home. I called the Red Cross. Your command will be notified soon. Go, make arrangements. You have to come. I’ll buy the tickets. Get your baby girl, come home to us. We need you here. Your Mom needs you.” I leaned against the brick wall of the building, my boyfriend holding me. I couldn’t cry, I was in shock. I knew something bad had happened - dad never cries. But gone? Dead? It crushed me. I had to call Tween (who was very young at the time), and tell her we were taking a trip. Her father’s girlfriend met me at the airport with her, and stayed with me while I told Tween what was really happening. After I finished, she said she needed to talk to God “right now!” I explained that she could talk to God anytime she wanted, and that He was always listening. She said no, she had to SEE Him. “RIGHT NOW.” I asked why, and she told me that she had to tell God to give her Uncle Steven back. We weren’t finished with him. He didn’t do everything yet. For the first time since receiving the news the night before, I cried. My baby girl had put into words exactly what we all felt. She held my hand, hugged me, and said, “Let’s go. We have to help Grandmommy and Grandaddy and Auntie.” We went home, and when I walked into the house, my Mom wrapped her arms around me and said, “Our little boy is gone. You were his second mother. I am so sorry we didn’t keep him safe. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to see him again.” She was worried I would be upset with her & Dad. I have to say, Tween was AMAZING through the whole week. She stayed out of the way, she colored in corners and got drinks and food for people. When she saw or heard crying she would get me so I could go console whoever needed to be consoled. She brought love and hugs and kisses to all of the friends, family, and neighbors who came to pay their respects and visit with us. She was AMAZING. Not once in my life have I met a child under the age of five who could display such gentle, nurturing, sweet, and caring mannerisms. She touched hearts. And then told everyone it was because Uncle Steven told her to help. Today would have been my brother’s birthday. Today, he would be 25 years old. Today I think of him and see him playing Major League Baseball for the Braves in Heaven. Steven ~ We love you, all the way to Heaven and back a kazillion times over. Happy Birthday, baby brother.

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