Over Christmas I had the opportunity to see and hold something I haven’t for almost 20 years.
Tevia came to me and said, “I think you might be ready to see something.” She pulled out a FedEx envelope from the closet of the guest room we were in and unwrapped a small plastic baggie containing a little pair of old blue sneakers. It took me a few moments to realize what exactly I had just been handed… it was the pair of shoes our little brother Andrew was killed in. They were worn out blue canvas shoes with once white plastic toes, faded and stained from the grass and dirt of a small child’s adventures. Stuffed inside the shoes was a pair of small dark-blue socks and a wallet size photo of the shoes’ last owner; one of only three or four pictures ever taken of him.
I was busy packing so I took that opportunity to compose my thoughts before removing and holding the shoes. So many thoughts were going through my mind, most of which were questions of “why.” Why did my aunt Donna take them from him in his final moments? Why had my mother let Andrew (and all us kids) run free with absolutely no supervision as such a young age? Why did I blame myself for his death for most of my life? Why was I being shown these items now after so many years? What would my mom say if she ever found out Tevia was now in possession of these shoes and how she acquired them? How many more adventures would these shoes have seen had the events of that fateful day, some twenty years ago, been different?
As I finally took the shoes out of the bag to hold them my mind was flooded with memories that I had been too busy, or rather unwilling, to recall for years. Many of the memories I have to doubt because I’m unsure what injecting my own thoughts about how things were as a child then letting them collects dust on the shelves of my mind for years has done to their credibility. Regardless….
Some of my memories include Andrew sleeping in a wicker bassinette that stood about four feet off the ground and he was able to (and did) climb out of it at about 16 months old. We used to move his bottom lip when he was sleeping and “talk” for him, although, he never needed us to talk for him as he learned to both talk and walk at an exceptionally young age. We used to push the middle of his forehead skin down towards his nose and say “transformers, more than meets the eye!” I’m not exactly sure why we did that, I think he looked like the Decepticon symbol when we did it… or something like that.
So little ever was, and even less now remains, of Andrew T. Webb. Had he been granted the chance to live out his life, 2005 would have been the year of his homecoming from his mission. He would have most likely been the best built, and tallest of his siblings… and who knows… I might even have TWO younger brothers married before me!
I’m thankful Donna had the sense to save those shoes and keep them from an unfit mother. I’m glad Tevia showed them to me, which gave me something more than fuzzy memories to remind me of the 9th member of our family.
3 comments:
Thanks for the story Jake. This was neat to read. I can see that you and Tevia both feel very similar feelings for your mother - and unfortunately see her as a big factor in your brother's death. I hope that both of you understand that God has a plan for us all; and he did/does for Andrew. Even if your mother were obsessive about watching the children, as some mothers are, there will always be moments where you will not be there. It is not our job as parents to protect our children 24 hours. We would all go insane. It is our job to teach our children and prepare them to live with God. We as humans like to look for objects of blame; believe me, I do it too! But we should trust more in God's plan. This doesn't mean we should go to the extreme of not caring at all and putting everything in God's hands. We must do our part. But I am sure the death of Andrew hurts your mother much more than any of us can fathom. And dealing with that pain may be cause for the way she acts/reacts to people. I think she has done a pretty good job. Tevia is one of the greatest people I have met in my life - and I know Jake is a caring, loving person who I am proud to be related to and a friend to. Like it or not, her influence has been a key part to who you are - and she has done a pretty good job with you two. (the others are pretty good, too, but I didn't include them - sorry others!)
What a beautiful tribute! Thanks for making me cry today! Not sob, just a few moist trickles down the cheeks. Someday you will be able to see that even though Mom was very careless about her children at times, she did do as best she could with what she knew. I am glad that I am not the one responsible to judge everyone at the end of it all. I cannot imagine the horror of living with the knowledge of "if only I had...." regarding the death of a child. There are so many complex emotions you get when you become a parent. It is the hardest and most rewarding job God has given to us as mortals. I hope everyone gets the opportunity to be a parent.
I am glad you wrote this about him. I still can't do it. I plan on it at some point, but your perspective and feelings about him mean a lot to me. Thank you so much for sharing.
Good points Bret and Tevs. I know that CONSTANT supervision isn't a guarantee for a accident free life. I also have to admitt that I liked not being supervised all the time since it gave us children opportunities to explore the world and use our imaginations.
However, I don't accredit the person I am today to my mom. Well... not directly. If anything I've struggled my entire life (since moving out after high school) to become everything she is not... basically, I've tried to become more like a good mix of Bret and my dad. My dad becuase of his desire for cleanliness, helping others without being asked, and a life of selfless service to friends AND strangers... and like Bret because of his grasp and love of the gosple, ideals and prioreties in life and how he puts them into practice, his love of education and culture and his patience and calm disposition.
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