…and that is as close as you’re going to get to me singing Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.
So let me instead tell you a little story.
It was thirty six years ago today that a miracle happened, and one of the most epic of journeys began.
In a sleepy little town in the great MidWest, there was a Mother-to-be heading to the hospital. That in itself wasn’t miraculous, nor was giving birth. That happens every day. The fact that she was told she couldn’t, and shouldn’t, yet did it anyway wasn’t miraculous either. That also happens frequently. The C-section delivery due to prior C-section deliveries was fairly typical of the times, and the amazing doctor that did the delivery had as big of a heart as well as a very skilled and steady hand. When he was finished with the delivery, he told the Mother, “It’s a Boy,” as tears rolled down his face.
She didn’t respond.
In the waiting room, a sleepy two year-old girl and an eight-year old trying to play ‘big sister’ were told they had a baby brother. They each got to see this wonderful baby, head full of thick, dark, black hair, and tiny long fingernails. Despite the protestations of the hospital staff, they also got to hold him and tell him how loved he was. They were told their Mother was very tired and needed rest, and so off they went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a Holiday.
For two weeks they played and talked about their new baby brother, and how much fun they would have when he finally got to come home. Of course, all of the adults had to remind them that it would be some time before he would be big enough to play with them proper!
When Mother and baby came home…well, came to Grandma and Grandpa’s for a bit before the family came home, everyone was excited and happy and made so many plans. The sisters didn’t complain about the extra fun and festivities. Grandma and the girls helped embroider their brothers name and birthday to a huge tablecloth…the birthday tablecloth which was in fact, a sort of family tree made festive, which was taken out and placed on the kitchen table whenever there was a birthday, and not just when the parties were held at their place either.
It would be another decade before the sisters learned the truth–Mother had had a very high-risk pregnancy, had complications with the anaesthesia, and after the delivery had been on life support, and they hadn’t expected her to wake up. Oh, and that Grandma had gone there and slapped her awake the day they decided to end life support because the children needed their Mother.
That was the miracle. Against all the odds, the strength of family prevailed.
Happy Birthday Chris’fer. I miss you more than words could possibly convey.
P.S.–Many apologies to friends and family. I truly stink at telling stories.