My brother, Eddie, is on my mind this morning. His life journey ended nine years ago today at the young age of sixty.
Eddie was born in 1944 at a time when infants diagnosed with Down Syndrome were often institutionalized.
My brother was blessed to be born to a woman, tenacious and strong, who demanded to raise her baby at home. With the help of family, until my father came home from World War 2, she did just that.
Always one to beat the odds, Eddie out lived many of the professionals who made claims that he would not live beyond infancy, adolescence, then his teens. I think they just gave up on predictions after that.
As a child and into adulthood he excelled. He was in the pilot class and continued with the Christ Child School for Exceptional Children and the Special Olympics. He bowled, danced, and he was quite a paint-by-number artist.
If you knew my brother Eddie, you would be one of the many who doubted the notion that he was “mentally challenged.” He knew how to work a room and was strategic in getting what he wanted.
Luckily for me, a trip to Target for the purchase of a new music cassette and a dinner of a Whooper, french fries, and Coke at Burger King was his idea of the perfect sister date.
- Those who are gone but never forgotten. I love you, my brother.
- My Increased walking is paying off. Work, work, work.
- Another sunny fall day and it is beautiful.
When I close my eyes and picture him, it is with his silly grin, giggling, hula dancing and rubbing his hands together. I can still hear him teasing me “Hey, Larry, wanna dance?” Always, Eddie. I will always be ready to dance with you.