Our house is so empty it echoes. On Wednesday, the movers boxed, numbered, sorted, and loaded up a lifetime of stuff.
But here in our home, the sounds that come back to me are not of my own voice but the laughs and shouts and sounds of family and friends. They’re the things I don’t want to fade from my mind’s ear.
But if we’re not careful, they do, don’t they?
Already, Sarah (5) cannot remember our house in the country and that was just a little over two years ago. What else will she forget? God, please let her remember Paige and the Hadleys and please please please help her to remember our many Daddy-Daughter Dates at D. Rowe’s. Please let her remember Annie and Maddie and Marijke and how kind they were to us.
D. Rowe’s, where the owner, David, once asked me why we hadn’t been in much lately.
“David, with Will’s autism, we don’t go out much. We don’t want to disturb your other guests,” I told him.
“Listen to me,” he said, “Will is always welcome here. You are always welcome here. If anyone has a problem with that, they can leave.”
Thank you, David. You may not even remember that. It was seven years ago. I will never forget.
Please, God, help Will (10) remember at least some of his “friends” that helped him with occupational therapy and physical therapy and speech therapy and behavioral therapy. Those therapists and teachers were our friends back then because we didn’t have the time or energy to make others… except for the mafia.
I remember Dee’s friends – the mama mafia – bringing their kids to Will’s 5th birthday party. He wanted a baseball party. Now, those kids had their own friends by then, but making friends was hard for Will… so they all came and played on an imaginary field of dreams. It was a perfect day. For years, those mamas and their families made us feel normal even when it was really hard. They were our family. God, please let them always be our family.
Will’s Uncle Scotty was there for that 5th birthday, too. Later, Scotty became Will’s golf buddy and provided the best golf moment in our twelve years in Missouri.
I made a lot of mistakes here (and not just on the golf courses). Too many to count. But I learned a few things and hope I helped a few people, too. I know more than a few people helped me – too many to mention.
Thanks, Columbia. You showed us everything we could have hoped for and more. We won’t let our children ever forget where they came from.
As for you?
Don’t wait for moving day to remember your stuff is just stuff.
Call a friend. Send a Facebook message. Write a letter. Get out. Invite them in. Be a good neighbor. Be a great friend.
Don’t let the echoes fade.
